Of Love and Deceit
by Wilbo Baggins
Summary: Trysten Moonjade is new to Hogwarts. She's used to observing life. What happens when she finds herself falling for the Ice Prince of Slytherin? Why do a thestral and a man in the forest keep making contact? Most characters brought to their negative extrem
1. The Beginning of an Odd School Year

**(Disclaimer: I own the plot and characters that aren't from the Harry Potter books. If you think I own the Harry Potter books, you are sorely mistaken and a bloody idiot. Thank you.)**

"And twenty points from Gryffindor for Mr. Potter's snide remarks," Professor Snape hissed, dismissing the class for lunch. Trysten Moonjade watched as the class filed out in front of her.

"Bloody hell, Harry! Snape sure had it out for you this morning," Ron complained loudly as the threesome made their way out of the class.

"Snape always has it out for Harry, Ronald. Today he just went overboard," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Ron whined, "but did you see how many points he took from Gryffindor? Hundreds, thousands maybe…" Ron's rant faded as he moved into the hallway, and another conversation became clearer to Trysten.

"I mean, who does he think he is, anyway?" the cool, sneering voice of Draco Malfoy asked. "Potter thinks all of the teachers will coddle him like that old coot," Draco hissed, referring, of course, to Dumbledore, "just because he's the-boy-who-lived. Hanging around with that filthy mudblood and Weaselby."

Trysten slipped in behind Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, leaving a few stragglers behind her so as not to draw attention as the very last one out. She tuned the conversations of those around her out and focused on the plans she had for lunch. She held her belongings close to her, trying not to bump anyone accidentally. She maneuvered to the edge of the crowd as it neared the Great Hall, then quietly slipped down a set of stairs just before the grand entrance. She navigated the halls expertly, trusting her feet to find their way.

Before the noise of her classmates receded from her mind, she found herself standing before a large painting of a bowl of fruit. Her lips twisted into a twitching smile as she leaned over and tickled the pear, causing a highly annoying giggle to erupt and the pear to turn into the door handle. Trysten swung the door open and gingerly stepped in, trying not to get in the way of the bustling house elves. A few minutes after her entry, a small elf in a poor excuse for a dress squeaked loudly, suddenly noticing Trysten's presence.

"M-Miss Moonjade! Rifka didn't see you there."

Trysten gave her a subdued smirk. "Don't worry about it, Rifka, it happens all the time. Do you think a few of you could spare the time to gather me something to eat?"

"Of course, Miss Moonjade. W-will Miss Moonjade be eating here?"

"No, Rifka, I'll be bringing it with me. And as I've said, you can call me Trysten."

"Yes, Miss Moonjade," Rifka murmured, hurrying off to gather food for her. Trysten watched the elves' teamwork with admiration, smiling as Rifka returned almost instantly, carrying a small basket.

"Thank you, Rifka," Trysten smiled. "Perhaps I will see you at dinner…?"

"Perhaps, Miss Moonjade. Please excuse Rifka; the cooking must be done now." With that, Rifka returned to work, scurrying along with the other elves, leaving Trysten smiling with affection.

Trysten traversed the hallways, basket in hand and a specific destination in mind. Taking a deep breath, she entered the second floor girls' bathroom. "Myrtle?" she called tentatively. "Myrtle, are you in here?"

"And where else would I be?" Moaning Myrtle pouted, floating out of one of the stalls. "There's not much to do when you're dead. Plus, if I even try they'll just make fun of me again."

"Do you mind if I sit up here?" Trysten asked, gesturing to a large windowsill halfway to the high ceiling.

"And where will I sit?" Myrtle snapped. "No one cares about poor Myrtle. 'Let's just let her float in the air, it doesn't matter because she's dead!'" Myrtle began to wail, and Trysten felt a tingle of insuppressible guilt.

"I could share it with you," she offered, beginning to climb atop the sinks to reach the windowsill.

"Oh," Myrtle responded simply, her tears stopping immediately. She floated easily towards the sill, arriving at about the same time as Trysten managed to lift herself upon the ledge. She let Myrtle complain for several minutes about the people who said they'd come back but never did, then interjected her own story about the conversations at the end of potions. Myrtle laughed, the noise echoing harshly within the bathroom. "Harry Potter. You know, he never came back either."

Trysten looked at her, dumbstruck. "Harry Potter was in the girls' bathroom?"

"Why, yes, he came after one of his friends when she was crying. He tried to comfort her, the nice boy." Myrtle's tone turned bitter and depressive as she recalled, "No one ever tried to comfort me, not even Harry Potter." Myrtle began wailing again, but not before Trysten heard the door swing open. Cursing beneath her breath, Trysten swiftly dropped off of the sill, ducking into the nearest stall and shutting the door quietly. She heard the other girl's feet splashing in the water that lined the tiles, coming closer. They stopped a few feet away from the stall Trysten was in, and all grew silent. "What are you looking at?" Myrtle shrieked. "You would think you've never seen a dead girl crying before!"

Trysten cringed at Myrtle's lack of finesse as the girl screamed in horror, dropped whatever she was carrying, and fled from the bathroom. Myrtle promptly began crying and wailing, facing away from the stall Trysten was creeping out of. "I should get ready for my next class," she told the sobbing girl. She looked to her right and found a Transfiguration book bobbing in the water. She picked it up and trudged on toward the door. Halfway there, she stopped and turned to face Myrtle. "I'm not sure if I can make it tomorrow, but I'll definitely come by the end of the week." She paused. "_Accio basket_." The lunch basket floated toward Trysten, levitating before her until she gripped the handle. "Bye Myrtle." She turned and, peeking to make sure none were in sight, left the bathroom, Myrtle howling as loud as ever.

Having stopped by the kitchen to drop off the basket, Trysten found her way up the marble staircase and down the hall until she was standing at the door of Professor Minerva McGonagall's Transfiguration classroom. She took a deep breath and knocked, clutching the other girl's book to her chest. She started when Professor McGonagall opened the door a few moments later.

"Why, Miss…uh…come in, please," the professor offered. Not one to disappoint, Trysten did as she was instructed, sitting down as the professor gestured to do so. "Now, to what do I owe this visit, Miss…?"

"Moonjade," Trysten filled. "One of your first year Transfiguration students got frightened in the bathroom earlier. She dropped this." Trysten held the book out to Professor McGonagall, who reached for it immediately. "I'm afraid it is a bit wet," Trysten warned as the professor's hand clamped around the damp surface. As she brought the wet object back to her body, she muttered a simple drying charm. Setting the book on her desk, she adjusted her glasses and studied the child before her.

"Frightened, you say?" Trysten nodded in response. "Whatever of?"

"Oh," Trysten blushed, "I'm afraid she hadn't met Myrtle before." Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the absence of 'moaning' preceding Myrtle's name, then turned her attention back to the girl before her.

Trysten didn't meet the professor's eyes, keeping her own downcast. She was slightly pale with mousy-brown hair trailing just past her shoulders, wavy until it ended in a number of small corkscrews. She was obviously timid, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes flitting around nervously.

"Which house are you in?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Ravenclaw," the girl responded quietly.

Minerva nodded, expecting such. "Five points to Ravenclaw for your conscientious return of the text." She looked the girl over once more. "Miss Moonjade, is there a reason why I do not know your face? I have no recollection of meeting you prior to this."

"I am rather new here," Trysten began, deciding to leave out the fact that the girl was currently enrolled in Professor McGonagall's class. "A little over halfway through the last school year I enrolled here, but was involved in extensive tutoring instead of the normal classes." At Minerva's disbelieving look, Trysten chose to elaborate. "My family travels a lot you see…well, we used to. My mother's death and a few other unfortunate…events transferred me into my grandparents' care, who contacted Headmaster Dumbledore about my joining the school in the year of my peers."

"Which is?" McGonagall interrupted.

"Sixth. Luckily I was thirsty for knowledge throughout my childhood and had access to it, so with a few remedial courses and a bit of catch up work last semester, along with the use of a time turner, I was able to take the O.W.L.S. on time, with the rest of my class."

"And are you finding the classes to be beyond your level this year?" Minerva asked, quite interested.

"Not at all! That is," Trysten flushed, "some are difficult, but not abnormally so." Professor McGonagall smiled and, glancing at her watch, stood. Trysten followed suit.

"It is almost time for afternoon classes, so I will let you go." Minerva smiled ruefully. "I am sorry if that felt like an interrogation, but there are very few around here whom I know nothing about." She gestured toward the door, and Trysten walked as quickly toward it as she could manage without looking as though she were rushing. "Miss Moonjade," Minerva called in an afterthought, "have I had any classes with you?"

Trysten smiled at this familiar occurrence then turned to face her teacher. "Just one," she told her regretfully. Allowing the shock to process through McGonagall's system, she slipped through the door, headed toward her afternoon class, Ancient Runes. On her way, she walked through a familiar hallway.

"Ah, Miss Moonjade, lovely to see you again," a portrait of Wilfred Elphick greeted, luckily painted before he was gored by an Erumpent.

"Hello, Wilfred," she greeted. "Sorry, I cannot stay; I have to get to Ancient Runes."

"Oh, that is just too bad," the man said, putting emphasis on every single word. "Come back later and I'll tell you my tale about that ghastly Erumpent!"

"You already did," Trysten murmured softly, continuing on.

"What was that?" Wilfred asked, straining an ear forward.

"Nothing. I'll see you soon," she called over her shoulder, quickening her pace in order to make in to Ancient Runes in the midst of the rush.

When Ancient Runes was finished, Trysten quickly found her way to the library. Quietly closing the door behind her, she slipped into a hidden corner, not even attracting the eye of the attentive Madam Pince. She set diligently to work on the scroll Severus had assigned, adding all the information she could. She and the Potions Master had a friendly relationship, and since she could no longer escape notice she thought she might as well give in her all. When done, the began reading the pages dictated in Ancient Runes, as well as a few pages ahead to ready herself for the next class period.

An hour or two later, Trysten rolled up her Potions scroll and put the Ancient Runes book in her bag, leaving as quietly as she came. She worked her way to the ground floor, avoiding populated corridors, and went down the stairs to the right of the Grand Marble staircase. Soon enough, Trysten found herself at the kitchen doorway. She entered the frantic room, this time noticed immediately by a small male elf, who bowed submissively before her.

"Can Dobby be of service to the young Hogwarts student?" Dobby asked carefully, studying the girl.

"Hello, Dobby, I am Trysten Moonjade," she greeted, offering her hand for Dobby to take. Reluctantly he did so, and a smile lit her face. "Dobby, I was wondering if-" A loud crash interrupted her, causing her to jump.

"Sorry Miss Moonjade. If she would please ask again?"

Trysten thought for a moment. "Would you like any help?" She asked, seeing that the frantic kitchen was more so than usual.

However kind Trysten's intentions were Dobby became instantly suspicious. "Why?" he asked, eying her warily.

"Just to help," she replied honestly. "But if it's not allowed, I'll just ask that you make me a dinner basket, please." Dobby looked her over coolly, then popped away, only to return a few moments later with a basket for her.

"Dobby must protect Harry Potter," he told her.

It took her a moment to register what Dobby had said, at which point she burst out laughing—a tinkling laughter that frightened the nearest house elves. "I'm sorry," she told Dobby, wiping her eyes, "it's just…why would I want to hurt Harry? He's done nothing to me."

Dobby studied her, calculatingly, then stated, "Dobby must get back to work. Dobby would thank Miss Moonjade to see herself out." Taking a hint, Trysten left the elves to their business, basket in hand, and headed out toward the grounds.

Just before it started to get dark, she arrived at the hut of Rubeus Hagrid. "Hagrid?" she called tentatively, knocking on the big door. "Hagrid, are you in there?"

"Tryst'n, tha' you?" Hagrid's muffled voice boomed from within the hut.

"It's me, Hagrid, open up!" she said a bit irritably, a chill settling in.

The door swung open to reveal the large, burly man, grinning like there was no tomorrow. "'Ello, Tryst'n, what brings you 'ere?"

"I came to help you, of course," she replied nonchalantly, maneuvering past the giant man to enter his house. She asked him about his day while she picked at her food, but discovered that, once again, the elves had packed way too much. "Do you want any of this, Hagrid? I can't seem to finish it."

"Nah, Tryst'n, I've already eaten. But you can see if Fang will 'ave a go at it." She looked down at Fang, who put his head on her knee affectionately, spilling drool down the length of her leg.

"Thanks," she mumbled sarcastically, shoving his heavy head off of her leg. Hagrid took the dinner remainders and put them on the floor, obtaining Fang's attention and falling victim to his constant hunger. "Shall we get to work?" she asked, gesturing outside. "_Scourgify,_" she mumbled, pointing to her leg.

"O' course, Miss Tryst'n." He opened the back door and broadly gestured for her to go first. "You know, Tryst'n, I'm real glad you're helpin' me take care of me pets. 'Arry, Hermione, and Ron always helped before, but they haven't been to see me this year. They're not even takin' Care of Magical Creatures!" Hagrid exclaimed sadly.

"Oh, Hagrid, I'm sure they've just been busy, preparing for next years N.E.W.T.S and all."

"But you've been able to visit," he sulked.

She smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his arm. "I'm just ahead. I've become an expert at managing time, whereas it appears Ron and Harry procrastinate constantly. Hermione must have her hands full. Plus," she added, remembering this morning's lesson, "Professor Snape has been giving Harry more punishments than I thought possible."

"Severus ought to know better, with all 'Arry's been through. Still don't trust the man." They walked into the Forbidden Forest, side by side, smaller creatures scared off by Hagrid's grumbling, and most of the larger, dangerous creatures leaving Hagrid space, seeing as the pair were no common visitors.

Just a little bit before curfew, they left the forest, dirty, torn, and worse for wear. A few parting words were said then Trysten began to hike back toward the castle, hoping to get to the West Tower unnoticed.

Luck was on her side, and she approached the Ravenclaw tower without incident. "Skrewts," she whispered, startled at how loud the whispered password sounded in the silent corridor. She slipped inside the Ravenclaw common room, and, seeing only a few remained in the dim firelight, she crept up to the girls' dormitories. She pushed open the door without a sound, flitted inside, and pressed the door closed behind her. Her bed, mostly hidden when the door was open, was a welcome sight after a long day, and she sank into it gratefully, turning away from the other beds in the room. The last images in her head were those of Hagrid's warming smile and Professor McGonagall's calculating gaze.


	2. Balls of Fire

The next day found Trysten fully rested, awakening before all others in her dorm. As the faintest traces of light filtered in the tower windows, she crept to the dormitory showers to prepare for the day. Clean and towel-clad, she made her way back to her bed, quickly changing into her school uniform. Before the others awoke, she left the Ravenclaw dormitories, heading for the kitchens. Tentatively, for it was still the very early morning, she went through the necessary steps to open the door. As she swung it open, she was surprised to see that the majority of the house-elves were already out and moving. One in particular caught her eye. "Hello, Rifka," she called softly.

The elf looked over to Trysten, then padded over. "Hello, Miss Moonjade," she greeted solemnly.

"You can call me Trysten," the girl reminded her.

"What can Rifka do for Miss Moonjade?"

"Well, actually I was wondering if-" A small pop interrupted Trysten's sentence, and another small elf stood at Rifka's side. "Hello, Dobby."

"Hello, Miss Trysten," Dobby squeaked suspiciously. "How is Miss Moonjade this morning?"

"I am well. And yourself? Rifka?" she asked, looking between the two elves.

"It does not matter how Rifka is," she told Trysten, bowing her head.

"Of course it does," Trysten protested. The elf merely turned and walked back to the kitchen. "How are you, Dobby?"

"Dobby is fine, miss," he told her. "Is there something Dobby can do?"

"Well, first I'd like to ask if you've rethought my offer of help."

"No, Dobby cannot let Miss Moonjade help. She might hurt Harry Potter."

Trysten smiled. "I must say, I admire your devotion to Harry. If my request conflicts with your orders, I shall stop bothering you about it. I know you are unable to contradict your orders. Well, without great suffering."

"Oh, no, Dobby is a free elf. Harry Potter freed Dobby from the evil masters, the M-Malfoys."

"Malfoy?" Trysten asked, genuinely surprised. "As in Draco Malfoy?" Dobby cowered for a moment. "I am sorry; I shouldn't have spoken of it. Anyway, the reason I was here—could I have a breakfast basket to go? Not as big as before, though, please."

"Will Miss Trysten always come here for meals?"

"Probably," she blushed. "I don't go into the Great Hall that often."

"How does Miss Trysten know Harry Potter, then?" Dobby asked, eying Trysten suspiciously.

"We have a few classes together," she explained. Before Dobby could question her further, Rifka apparated in front of Trysten, shoved a breakfast basket in Trysten's arms and gave her a weak push toward the door. "Thank you, Rifka. I will be seeing you, Dobby. Feel free to visit me anytime."

Rifka closed the door behind Trysten, leaving her to wonder at the elf's haste. Shrugging it off, Trysten ambled towards the edge of the lake, preferring to have her breakfast amidst the peeking sun and morning mist. She sat in a grassy area, looking out across the glassy lake and eating the food Rifka provided for her. She remained there until she had to go to Divination.

Harry awoke with a start, heat searing his forehead. "Good, you're up, mate," Ron yawned. "It's about time for breakfast."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, his palm resting against his scar. He rubbed his eyes and put on his glasses, and his waking roommates came into focus.

"Hurry up, Harry, it's my favorite this morning," Ron whined.

"I'm coming," Harry told him, groggily pulling on his uniform and robes. Running a hand through his hair and slipping his shoes on, Harry followed Ron downstairs to meet Hermione in the commons room.

"Hello Ron, Harry," she chirped happily, ever the morning person. "We've got just enough time to get a relaxed meal in before Divination."

"Ugh, don't remind me," Harry moaned.

"But Hermione, I thought you dropped divination…?" Ron asked, confused.

"If Firenze wasn't teaching, I would have, rather than waste my time on that fake, imposturous-"

"Hermione," Harry warned her. Hermione took a deep breath and smiled apologetically. "Shall we?" Harry asked, his stomach urging him on to breakfast. Ron and Hermione nodded, and the made their way down to the Great Hall.

They sat in their usual places, accompanied by Seamus, Dean, Ginny, Lavender, and Neville. Laughter flew freely from most of the teens, but Harry forced smiles and laughter, the happiness never truly reaching his core.

"What do you think, Harry?" Lavender asked him.

"Huh? Oh…I'm afraid I was in my own world for a minute there. Sorry."

"It's alright," Hermione told him. "Lavender asked you if you thought Snape would give us another parchment today."

"Oh. I don't know," Harry said lamely. "Probably. It's Snape, after all." There were murmurs of agreement, and Harry was once again left to his thoughts. However, before Harry could become lost within them, a hand tugged on his arm.

"Come on, Harry. We have to get to Divination." Harry chomped down his piece of toast and followed Ron, Hermione, and Neville to Divination with Firenze.

"But Divination is a bunch of rubbish," a familiar voice whined.

"Quiet, Ron. At least we have Firenze," Hermione snapped. Unnoticed by the group, Trysten Moonjade slipped in behind them, walking unnoticed into class.

"Well, well, what have we here? Weaselby and Mudblood with "the chosen one"." Draco Malfoy stepped in front of the group, flanked by Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson, as per usual. Before they could take notice of her presence, Trysten moved out from the back of them, walking along the walls of the room until she was out of sight, now that all attention was turned to the stand-off.

"Back off, Malfoy," Harry hissed.

"Oh, I'm scared," Draco mocked. Quietly, Trysten ducked into Firenze's office, only to find herself staring straight into his chest, which was mere inches away.

"Sorry, Professor, I just thought you should know that Draco and Harry are at it again."

Firenze rolled his eyes. "Wizards," he sighed. "Oh, and Trysten?"

Trysten froze and looked up at her professor, with whom she had grown quite close to (or as close as any were to Trysten). "Yes, Firenze?"

"Today we're working in groups." At her horror-stricken face, he held up a hand. "But, I thought you would feel this way, so you will be working on your own, if that's alright." She nodded. "You'll have the table by my office door. Now if you would," he gestured to the door.

"Of course, Firenze. Thank you," Trysten told him softly, quickly exiting and joining the crowd.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Firenze boomed, having seen them in dueling position. "I will have none of that in my class, is that understood? Now today we'll be working in groups of three. Choose your own partners, but I will expect you to be productive, so beware." He paused as the students got settled. "Good. Now on your table you will find a crystal ball and a textbook. I believe you all learned how to read a crystal ball in Miss Trelawney's class, yes?" A few mumbles of assent were heard. "Now you will be doing the same, but looking into broader aspects. One partner will be the subject, another the reader, and the third will look through the text to retrieve the meanings of the symbols you may not have learned. Get to it," Firenze clapped. Immediately the room was filled with chatter. Ignored, Firenze moved to the table at which Trysten was sitting. "Miss Moonjade, seeing as you have chosen not to partner, and I must see to the class, your assignment is quite different, but remotely the same. It is more advance magic, but you have been excelling in my class, and I believe you are ready for it." Trysten nodded her understanding. "Now, you're going to do a flame reading." Trysten's eyes widened. "Oh, you've heard of it before?"

"Yes, Professor Firenze. While my family was in Egypt, a woman we stayed with was quite fond of them," she told him.

"Do you know how it works?" Firenze asked.

"In theory," she admitted.

"Alright. It's the same concept as the crystal readings. All you need to do is spell the person's name with the powder I have placed here, picturing them in your mind. Say their name and the incantation '_Incendi lumo spectra_'. A ball of flame will appear. Peer within the seeing." He patted her shoulder. "Chose who you wish. I'll cast a charm so none can see you." With that, Firenze mumbled a few words, a flash of light appeared, and he turned his attention to the class.

Tentatively, Trysten dipped her hand into the powder, unsure of who to see for. Glancing around the room, Trysten spelled out carefully, 'Harry Potter.' With a flick of her wand she murmured, "_Incendi lumo spectra_," and watched as the dust from the letters swirled in to the air, forming a ball, which quickly burst into flame. She stared into the flames, emptying her mind. Nothing came to her and, with a sigh, she flicked her wand, putting the fire out.

She tried 'Harry Potter' again, this time abandoning her wand as she murmured the incantation. The flame appeared again and she stared within the depths once more. Flickers of images appeared:

_a dark haired boy in a small, confined space, the same boy cleaning, a fat man screaming at him, the boy face to face with a snake while a fat boy sat in a snake's cage, a man towering in the doorway of a dark, wet shack—_

"Trysten?" Firenze called softly. Trysten sat back with a gasp, the flame in front of her popping out of existence. "Miss Moonjade? Are you alright?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Y-yes, I just…was surprised by what I saw." Trysten looked around her. "The room's empty. Is class over?"

"I dismissed it early, yes. There are still fifteen minutes until the next class."

"Alright, thanks...Firenze?" He raised his eyebrows in answer. "What…exactly does the flame show us?"

"Good question, Miss Moonjade. It shows a variety of things but usually focuses on the past—traumatic of life-changing memories. Sometimes a vague look into the future may be seen, but it is not often. There are a few other possible effects, but they are highly improbable."

"That you, Firenze," Trysten told him, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow." Firenze clipped his head politely and watched Trysten leave the room, wondering what she viewed in her seeing.

Arithmancy passed Trysten in a blur, moving mechanically as her mind wandered to her seeing. So caught up in her thoughts, she allowed her feet to lead her where they wished. With no interference on her stomach's part, Trysten found herself standing at the entrance to Hagrid's hut. Mentally shrugging her shoulders, she took a breath and knocked. Hearing no answer, she knocked again, louder.

"Hagrid?" She called loudly. Trying the knob, she saw it was open, so she swung open the door, revealing an empty cabin. Fang lay sleeping in his basket, his giant paw twitching in his dreams. The fire was out and the light cast in from the covered windows set about an eerie glow. Something seemed off, so Trysten entered the cabin, glancing about. Everything seemed in place, so Trysten left through the back door, securing the door behind her, wand at the ready.

Still receiving an odd feeling, Trysten decided it would be best to just go to the castle again. Turning to leave, she tensed and froze. An icy breath of air graced her back, and, clutching her wand, she turned to face what was behind her.

A startled gasp escaped her lips as she saw what stood before her. White, shining eyes peered into hers, captivating and intelligent. Drawing her eyes away, Trysten examined the creature. Draconic wings adorned the skeletal, black body of a horse, the face and neck slightly draconic as well. "A…a thestral?" Trysten asked incredulously. The thestral bowed its head, through whether in greeting of affirmation Trysten could not be sure. Suddenly, everything Trysten learned about thestrals came rushing back to her. "Carnivorous," she mumbled aloud. "Thought to be a bad omen, but not. Wickedly fast flyers, wonderful sense of direction. Attracted to the smell of blood." She paused. "Blood? There's no blood here." She looked around her, then looked the thestral in the eyes. "Is there?"

Trysten tentatively took a step forward, and the thestral quickly closed the gap between them. Oddly trusting and entranced by the thestral's eyes, Trysten stood her ground. After what felt like an eternity, she carefully set a hand on the thestral's shoulder, taking in the leathery material stretched over hard, jutting bones. "You're beautiful," she murmured honestly.

The thestral stamped its foot impatiently and Trysten removed her hand, the thestral nipping playfully at it as she stepped back. She smirked at the thestral, wondering why the day had to get weirder. As she stepped farther back, the thestral stared at her, seeming to peer into her soul. Suddenly, it took flight, zooming back over the forest, and then somewhere within its depths. Shaking her head in an unbelieving gesture, she turned to head back to the castle, not seeing the pair of eyes following her from the edge of the Forbidden Forest.


	3. Potions with Potter

(A/N: A big thank you to XeVanne, my first and only reviewer)

Trysten's feet led her aimlessly about the castle, hunger all but forgotten in the midst of her wonder and confusion.

"'Ello, Miss Moonjade!" Trysten started, nearly tripping, and whirled around to face the speaker. A portrait of a large woman donning a robe and flower necklace looked joyfully at Trysten, large frizzy red hair framing her face. Trysten relaxed visibly and smiled.

"Hello, Jillian. You startled me."

"My apologies, dear, I just haven't seen you in quite some time," Jillian explained. Trysten smiled to herself, deciding not to mention that she had spent hours in this very spot not three days prior. "When are you coming back for storytelling, dear?"

"They're not stories, they're my life," Trysten sighed. "And soon. But it is my turn to listen. One of you has to tell." Mutters of protest could be heard, as the occupants of the nearby portraits had become interested in the conversation. Trysten held up her hand for silence. "That was the deal. I'll try to come soon, but things seem to be getting more hectic by the minute." Trysten had a fleeting thought of the thestral and added, "And if you're nice enough, perhaps I'll tell you another tale." With that, Trysten spun on her heel and began marching towards Potions, trying to suppress her thoughts and prepare for the long class ahead.

As soon as she stepped into the room, she instantly regretted it. The room was deathly quiet, as always, dark seeming to emanate from every surface the room held. In his elegant handwriting, Professor Snape had succinctly stated that this potion required partners, which he had assigned. Details of the potion would be disclosed later, and both individual and partner grades would be taken into account.

Trysten panicked at the thought of revealing herself to another, knowing that person could not just see her as another piece of thoughtful decoration, but must work with her. Her eyes flicked to Snape, who was checking the last of the work stations. _He hasn't seen my yet—I can leave and do the makeup work myself,_ she thought frantically. She stared at the word 'partners' and backed up as quickly as she could. Approaching the doorway, she gulped, _Please let me get out of here_, a moment before running into something solid and slightly warm. An icy grip burned into her elbow, holding it at a weird angle and forcing her to walk forward. She found herself stumbling though the ominous doorway into Snape's office, then ungracefully thrust forward, ramming into the professor's desk. Trysten turned to face her assailant just as Professor Snape closed the door behind him.

"What made you think you could escape this so easily?" Snape drawled out, his town cold (per usual). Trysten simply looked at the professor, just about the only person Trysten ever—almost—debated with, and the only one who had seen her temper. He was also the only person who seemed not to care what Trysten wanted, but rather forced her into basic assimilation.

She tried looking innocent, knowing full-well it was useless. "Escape? Whatever do you mean?"

"Miss Moonjade, you were thinking so loudly I have a headache," he moaned, rubbing his temple in exaggeration.

_Bloody legimens_, Trysten thought as loudly as she could, rewarded by a knowing smirk upon her professor's face. The above stated facts also made Severus Snape the only living being with whom she shared her sardonic humor.

"Trysten Moonjade," Snape began, grimacing inwardly as she winced at her full name, "you will go out there and work with your partner actively, or I will make sure each student in Hogwarts pays attention to you." Snape could have laughed at the horror-stricken look on the girl's face, but kept it to himself. "Are we agreed?"

"Yes, sir," Trysten mumbled sullenly, glancing about her nervously as she exited the office, content that no one seemed to be noticing. She slinked off to a back corner of the room, anxiously wondering who her partner would be, just as a smiling trio entered the room.

"Partners?" Hermione questioned, reading the board. "This is the first partner assignment this year!"

"Stating the obvious as usual, Mudblood?" Draco Malfoy taunted, entering the room.

"Seats, everybody, now," Snape stated authoritatively. "You must brew the ingredients exactly how I have written, or you will regret it immensely." Snape flicked his wand at the air in front of his desk, leaving his wand scribbling in the air as he turned to write more on the board. "You will be making the Draught of the Living Death, starting page 10 in your Advanced Potion-Making textbook. Your pairs are being randomly conjured as we speak. Get to work."

All eyes watched the wand spew forth golden, flowing script, foreign to Snape's handwriting. Only two in class seemed fazed by this: Hermione knitted her brows in confusion, and Trysten sank lower in her seat, recognizing the script as her own. Making eye contact with her professor, she realized this was a warning that he would make good on his threat.

Hermione and Ron silently cheered, as the odds were on their side and paired them together. They immediately set to work, joining those previously named and leaving Harry to sit curiously at the desk, glaring daggers at Malfoy. _Please don't let us be paired,_ Harry begged the wand. 'Malfoy, Zabini' appeared next, and Harry sighed in relief. He glanced at the names curiously. Just about everyone he knew were already partnered. The pen slowed, nearing its end, when at last Harry's name appeared. 'Potter, Moonjade'.

Harry turned the name over in his head, but couldn't match a face to it. Shrugging, he got up to go to their assigned work table, hoping 'Moonjade' would meet him there. Severus Snape visibly grimaced at Trysten's first partner, sending the girl a look of reassurance and sympathy. Trysten, however, was sulking, slowly going to her and Harry's workspace, thinking loudly, but in jumbles. One phrase that Severus managed to catch set a mischievous glint to his eyes: _Bloody legimens._

Harry sat at the worktable, his curiosity nearly killing him. He had almost taken 'Moonjade' as absent when he noticed a presence. He spun in eagerness to face his partner, this 'Moonjade'. He was shocked to see a petite girl with mousy brown hair. Her ivory skin showed no blemish, and her downcast eyes caused her long eyelashes to brush her cheeks. Her wavy hair reached past her shoulders, tumbling into elegant curls upon her uniform. She stood about five feet, three inches, shorter than Harry, and had been worrying her lip constantly. A blush graced her cheeks, a startling contrast to her complexion, making Harry notice his stare.

"I'm Harry Potter," he stated, putting out his hand.

"Trysten Moonjade," she responded, barely audible over the chatter of the class. She took his hand hesitantly. They stood a moment longer, Trysten blushing furiously as Harry studied her.

Walking by, Snape paused, glancing at the pair. "Potter," he snapped, "get to work." Harry's head swiveled around to glare at the Professor, missing the grateful look Trysten sent Severus. The professor, however, saw said look and bobbed his head graciously, moving on.

Trysten cleared her throat, sadly bringing the boy's attention back to her. "Get the ingredients while I ready the cauldron?"

"Sure," Harry replied, focusing at the set task for the first time. Harry tried to shove his way through, but found himself at the back of the mob. _Has she always been in this class? At Hogwarts? I've never seen her before. There's something odd about her, but I can't quite place it…which house is he in? _He asked himself suddenly, queasy at the thought of admiring a Slytherin. He finally shoved through and grabbed the valerian root, sopophorous bean, and asphodel in an infusion of wormwood, fighting his way back to the work station just as the cauldron became ready to use.

Further dialogue was choppy and impersonal, consisting of Harry reading the instructions as Trysten performed the operations. Partially into the procedure, Harry began to pay attention to what his partner was doing. "No, it says to slice the sopophorous bean."

"But crushing the bean is more effective," Trysten explained, not missing a beat.

"But-"

"Harry, what did you get in Potions last year?" Harry mumbled an answer, embarrassment showing on his face. "Exactly." Realizing she had done all the work, she looked to her partner. "Would you care to stir?"

"Sure," Harry grumbled. Harry stirred dejectedly, and Trysten could barely restrain herself from grabbing the rod from his offending hand.

"Harry," she stated, teeth clenched. "Do you mind if I stir?"

The class proceeded accordingly, and Trysten was more than happy to do the work individually. The potion was a deep purple at the halfway point and released blue steam. As the class was nearing the end, Trysten leaned over to peer into the cauldron. "Lilac," she grinned. Harry looked to her in astonishment.

"It's right?" Harry choked. He checked the book, the cauldron, and the book again, not daring to believe it. As he did this, Trysten, used to having a correct potion, siphoned out a portion, corked the test tube, labeled it, and brought it up to Professor Snape, looking at the floor as she extended her hand.

"Miss Moonjade?" Snape murmured questioningly. "Trysten," he said more firmly. She got out of the daze she was in and looked up at him. "Stay after class, I'd like to speak with you." She nodded. "Nice work on the potion," he murmured, dismissing her. Curious and slightly hesitant, she worked her way back to her seat, finding that Harry had finally accepted the truth.

"Nice work," Trysten murmured, unintentionally copying the Potions Master and sadly bringing Harry's attention to her presence.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, pausing to glare at Snape, you had been praising Malfoy. Seeing this, Trysten smirked. "It wasn't my compliment," she told him, gathering their work materials. He turned to look at her, brows furrowed. "It was the Professor's," she stated, carrying their materials to be cleaned. Inwardly pleased that she had bested two parties (embarrassing Harry for his bias and carrying Snape's compliment to his most loathed student), Trysten set about cleaning up cheerfully, forgetting her wand and doing it by hand.

Harry Potter stared after his partner before turning to Snape, an appalled look on his face. Seeing how distraught he looked, Ron and Hermione rushed over, having finished their potion.

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Did Snivellus say something? That stupid, bloody, git-"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped before turning back to Harry expectantly.

"Snape… gave me a compliment," he said, his voice full of wonder. Hermione froze in a state of shock while Ron opened and shut his mouth repeatedly, looking like a fish.

"You mean Snape just walked up and- and-"

"Well, no. He didn't compliment me directly." Harry read the two Gryffindor out of the room, seeing as the bell rang. "My lab partner told me for him."

"That reminds me, Harry, who was your partner?" Hermione asked curiously.

A distinct picture of the girl floated before his eyes and Harry opened his mouth to tell them her name, but found he couldn't remember it. As he came to his conclusion, his vision of her became blurry. He blinked and looked between Ron and Hermione, pausing mid-step. "I don't know," he confessed.

Professor Snape watched irritably as the students filed excruciatingly slowly from his room. Except for one blissfully obliviant girl who stood, washing her tools, by hand no less. Smiling slyly he easily sneaked up behind her, leaning close to her ear. "There are better ways to do that, you know," Snape said matter-of-factly, causing Trysten to jump and whirl around, dropping whatever she had been holding.

"Aeris, Isis, and Hecate!" she screeched, naming gods of different communities she had lived with.

"Come to my office," he told her calmly, savoring the fact he had startled her so. With an overly dramatic swirl of his cape, Severus Snape led the way, opening the door and gesturing Trysten inside in mock-politeness. He let her stand a moment, watching her fidget.

"What?" she asked in a bored tone, although she couldn't stop her hands from moving.

Snape gave a slight shrug and sat in his chair, gesturing that Trysten do the same in the visitor's chair. "Merely wondering ho your first social experience went." Trysten sent a glare at the Professor, which promptly turned into a grimace in answer to his question. "Honestly, had I known you would be paired with Potter," he spat the word viciously, "I wouldn't have forced you to stay today."

Trysten smiled mentally at Severus' obvious contempt for the boy and decided to egg him on. "Oh, he's not all that bad," she told him. Snape raised his eyebrows at this comment, a hard one to achieve with the young Miss Moonjade. Interested in what prompted this, Snape began to pick through her brain. Feeling a tickling in her brain, a sensation she had been waiting for, she put all her mind power into picturing Harry, a halo around his head. Snape audibly snorted, and Trysten changed the scene to a 'loud' though of Harry and Snape viciously snogging. Watching her teacher's face turn bright red at this, she decided it would be best if she left. Standing by the door, Trysten murmured, "Bye, Professor," and slipped out, winking at Severus as she did so.

A baffled, embarrassed and angry Snape caught the action. _Did she just wink?_ He asked himself. However, before he could finish the thought, the door popped open again.

"Oh, and Professor? I passed on your compliments on the potion to Harry for you." Grinning, she closed the door and scampered off. However she was not out of hearing range when Snape responded.

"You did WHAT?" he bellowed, fury building in him. Taking in the girl's actions, Severus put aside his anger and sat back in his chair, an amused smirk positioned on his face. "She should have been in Slytherin," he murmured, taking out a flask of firewhisky.


	4. False Assumptions

"But do you know which house?" Hermione asked Harry excitedly, sitting down with him and Ron at the Gryffindor table for dinner.

"It wasn't a Slytherin, was it?" Ron moaned.

Harry thought back, then shook his head. "I can't remember…but not a Slytherin, she was too nice." Ron snorted.

"Harry, why don't you look around the tables?" Hermione suggested. "You said she helped you with the potion, right? So she's intelligent. Try Ravenclaw first," she told him. He did as he was instructed, scouring the Ravenclaw table, searching for the nameless girl. Finding no evidence of her, he turned to Hermione and sadly shook his head.

Across the hall, Draco Malfoy lazily glanced up at the 'boy-who-bloody-lived', then narrowed his eyes, glaring. The bushy-haired girl and Potter were talking animatedly about something. Potter suddenly began searching the Ravenclaw table. Apparently failing, Potter turned to the Mudblood and shook his head, then began on Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and, as a last resort, their own table. Hermione adopted a puzzled countenance, Harry stared into space, and Ron continued to eat. Draco snorted. _Bloody git,_ he thought. Pushing his curiosity aside, Draco Malfoy studied the Golden Trio intently, digging into his dinner.

Trysten walked hurriedly from the Potions classroom, in case Snape decided to follow her. Again lost in her thoughts, this time consisting mostly of Snape's beet red face with a small portion reserved for the thestral, she was letting her feet lead her once more. She looked up as her feet slowed to a stop and was surprised to find herself standing a foot before the Great Hall's entrance, the doors thrown open. She tried to figure out why this occurred, and could only settle on the reason that she was hungry. Shrugging slightly, she headed down her well-traversed path to the kitchens.

Harry gave up his search and turned back to his mashed potatoes. "Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked suddenly. "I thought she said she had something to tell us." Automatically, Harry's head swiveled towards the doorway, and although he did not find Ginny, the sight before him made his eyes grow wide.

"It's her!" Harry cried sharply, but not so loudly as to disrupt the din in the hall. He stood up without thinking, ignoring Ron and Hermione's question, and strode quickly towards the girl in the doorway. He saw her spin on her heel and disappear from view. Picking up his pace, he burst out of the Great Hall, only to find the entire corridor empty and silent.

Draco sat at attention as he saw Harry Potter go rigid, staring at the doorway. He studied the scene as Harry leapt to his feet, the other two teens speaking to the unresponsive boy. Harry left the room in a hurry, leaving an excitedly whispering duo. A few moments later, Harry came back into the hall, panting, as if he had been running. Ron and Hermione talked hurriedly, then watched Harry expectantly as he sat dejectedly and shook his head no. Malfoy snickered as the trio's shoulders hunched perceptively in unison, then returned to his meal, thinking.

_What is it that Potter, Mudblood, and Weasely are on about?_ Draco asked himself. He squinted his eyes at the aforementioned, trying to figure it out. Sighing in defeat, Draco looked at his turkey. _They're looking for someone. And I'll be damned if I don't find out who it is._

Having greeted Rifka and Dobby, learning they were terribly busy, and getting dinner, Trysten navigated the halls expertly before being deposited in the astronomy tower. Conjuring up a blanket, Trysten Moonjade spread the thin fabric over the ground and lay down, watching the stars as she had a lovely, solitary picnic.

The moon had moved a great distance when Trysten finally roused herself, rolling her shoulders to dispel the cold tension. She folded the blanket and left it in a corner. Free of burden, Trysten silently walked the halls until she found her dorm. Whispering the password, she moved softly upstairs to her trunk. Removing her uniform, Trysten changed into a pair of soft oversized pajama pants and a baggy silk shirt, both of dark green. Thanking any gods she could think of for the mercifully empty common are, she slipped out, unnoticed.

Not knowing what to do but unable to sleep, Trysten stealthily slipped outside and walked towards Hagrid's hut. She wanted to ask about the thestral, but wasn't sure how to go about it. Thinking only of her planning, Trysten didn't see the person looming a few meters ahead.

"Hey, you!" Trysten stopped, paling, and looking up to see a very appealing young man with silver-blonde hair striding purposefully towards her. She gulped.

"Um… hi," she murmured, staring at his shoes.

Draco Malfoy looked her over, smirking at how timid she was. "What are you doing out past curfew?" The girl blushed furiously, clashing with her clothing. _Green,_ the boy noted. _Probably Slytherin, although I don't recognize her._

She looked up at him. "Sorry, Draco," she murmured, her hand on her want, about to hex him.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, convinced she was Slytherin by speaking to him on a first-name basis. "Just get back to the common room; I don't want any points deducted."

Surprised and perplexed, Trysten mumbled, "Thanks," and walked past him, more aware of her surroundings as she made her way to Hagrid's cabin. Sprinting the last hundred meters or so, the girl knocked heavily on Hagrid's door, panting.

"Who's there?" Hagrid shouted, suspicious.

"It's me, Hagrid, it's-"

"Tryst'n?" Hagrid asked, amazed, opening the door. "What're you doin' out after dark?"

"I had to talk to you," she told him honestly. She paused. "Could I come in?"

"O' course," Hagrid guided her in, shutting the door behind her. "What is it you wanted to talk wit' me abou'?" Hagrid asked, pouring two mugs of tea.

"Well, I came down to see you this afternoon, and-"

"Sorry, I was off discussin' things wit' Dumbledore," Hagrid interjected.

"It's no problem," she assured him. _Well, not directly, _she thought. "It's just… something seemed wrong, so I went out back. While I was there, something… strange happened."

"What happened?" Hagrid asked, worried.

"Well…I was about to leave, but I heard something, so I turned around and…there was a thestral," she stated, watching for his reaction.

He sighed and furrowed his brows. "I 'ad been breedin' 'em in the forest, but they never come when I'm not 'ere." He looked contemplative, then concerned. "Didn' hurt ye, did it?"

"No, not at all…well, it nipped me, but just in fun. No, it was….nice. Friendly. It let me…pet it."

Hagrid looked skeptical. "Pet it?" She nodded. "Yer sure t'was a thestral?" She nodded again. "Can' imagine why he'd do that…" Hagrid fell off into thought, then stood suddenly. "Dumbledore's meeting me here. Soon," he added. "You'd best be off. Back way to be safe." He opened the back door for the girl, then smiled at her. "Y'er a special lass, Tryst'n, tha's fer sure." He patted her gently on the head and ruffled her hair, only throwing her slightly off balance. She crept out the back door and made a wide circle around Hagrid's gut, looking for people on the path. She raced inside, but made it only as far as the fourth floor before being ready to pass out. Wanting to rest, she opened a door only to find the most comfortable-looking bed she'd ever seen. The room smelled like worn leather and sand, a fire crackling in the corner. Without a second thought, she collapsed in the bed and fell asleep.

Draco returned to the dorms after his required rounds, opening the door to find a few Slytherin out and about. "Did she make it back?" Draco asked, interested only for the points.

"Who?" Blaise Zabini asked.

"The girl I caught in the hallway. I sent her back here. Are you telling me she's still out there?"

"Nobody came in past curfew," Pansy told Draco. Just as Draco began to swear, she added, "But, everyone's here."

Draco froze, confused. He sent an inquiring look to Blaise, who nodded. _Bloody hell,_ he thought, _she wasn't in Slytherin?_ He kicked the table after realizing he had wasted an opportunity to take house points from someone else. He stormed off to his room, promising himself that the girl in green would pay the next time he saw her.

Harry Potter sat awake in bed, wondering what had become of the girl, thinking she may somehow have been a ghost of sorts, able to disappear so suddenly. He changed positions for the fifth time, finally banishing her from his mind and falling into a troubled sleep.

Morning found Trysten more rested than she could ever remember being. She stretched, and then paused, not remembering the space she was using available on her bunk. She opened her eyes very slowly and saw an amazing mural upon the ceiling. Scenes from her childhood, mostly remembered landscapes, littered the mural, the colors gradually shifting. Shifting her eyes to take in the whole picture, she saw that the faint outline of a dragon had been worked in. Staring in wonder a few moments more, she decided to turn her attention to her surroundings.

She lay in an ornate room, centered around a bed, in which she was currently resting, covered in silky sheets in different shades of tan, green, and orange. She sat up, hesitantly, and saw that a fireplace sat to her left, a wall to her right, and a chest sat at the end of the bed, facing the door. Fascinated, Trysten crawled on the bed and lifted the lid, revealing a set of school roves with no House colors, a delicious-looking chocolate chip muffin, a quill, and a set of books for the day. She closed the lid and noticed a leather backpack had appeared next to the trunk.

Deciding to forget logic for the time being, Trysten changed into the uniform, which fit perfectly, shoved the books in the bag, along with the quill, grabbed the muffin and headed to the odor. Pausing with her hand on the door handle, she turned back to the room. "Thanks," she murmured to no one in particular, then left the room. Bypassing the kitchen, Trysten headed straight for Hagrid's hut, hoping he had an answer for her. When she arrived, however, he was once again absent. She huffed and turned back to the castle. She heard a familiar sound behind her and a tingle went done her spine. She spun around, coming face to face with-

"A bunny?" she asked herself, disgusted. She turned to head back to the castle, rolling her eyes while she stepped forward, coming immediately in contact with something hard. Blithely hoping she hadn't run into a wall, she opened her eyes, a tingle racing throughout her body. "You again?" she squeaked. The thestral gave a majestic nod, dipping its neck forward with one leg extended, resembling a bow. Trysten bowed back, even more deeply, and the black creature puffed air out of its nostrils in approval.

Trysten stepped forward, placing a tentative hand on the thestral's shoulder, then slowly rubbing her hand on the taut skin, her eyes never leaving the creature's. The next few moments stretched for a contented eternity, Trysten's head becoming dizzied with euphoria.

"He likes you," she heard someone say behind her. She spun, somewhat slowly, as to not spook the thestral. She saw a pale young man, dressed in black and pressed against the trunk of one of the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

"Who are you?" Trysten asked, before thinking, _And when did I get so close to the tree line?_

"My name is not important," the man said in an elegant, seductive voice. Trysten felt the thestral nudge her forwards with its nose. She looked back toward the man, who was just barely smiling. He looked at something past her shoulder. "Someone's coming," he told her, his eyes meeting hers. "We shall meet again. Until then, I bid thee adieu, fair lady." The man was slowly swallowed by the shadows, which Trysten watched the entire process of. The thestral bit Trysten's cloak and tugged to get her attention, its sharp teeth grazing her shoulder blade ever so slightly as he did so. Trysten winced, but was brought back to reality. She turned to face those shining eyes, only to find that the thestral had already left. She looked up the path to see Dumbledore and Hagrid walking together towards the hut. Trysten straightened her appearance and walked towards them.

"'Ello, Trysten!" Hagrid shouted when they were a small number of meters away.

"Good morning, Miss Moonjade," Dumbledore greeted jovially.

"Morning, Hagrid, Headmaster," Trysten murmured.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Dumbledore asked, obviously quite busy.

"I was just wondering if…" She turned to Hagrid. "Have you gotten a chance to think about the-…my problem?"

"No, Tryst'n, sorry. Be'n awful busy since las' nigh'. I'll think 'bout i' soon, thought," Hagrid promised.

Trysten was about to take her leave when the headmaster stopped her. "Dear, what's happened to your cloak?" Dumbledore asked, worried by what looked like blood.

Trysten looked confusedly at him for a moment before pulling her cloak in from of her face to look at it. Seeing a hole in the middle of quite a long tear, Trysten heaved a sigh and muttered, "My problem ate it," and wandered off, mumbling goodbyes.

Dumbledore turned to Hagrid and raised an amused eyebrow. "Now this I'd like to hear about."

At breakfast, Draco Malfoy scoured the table with his eyes, looking for the girl he met the night before. It was established that she wasn't in Slytherin, so he looking in Gryffindor first, hoping he'd be able to harm the 'noble Gryffindor' amidst his revenge. During his frantic search, he noticed Harry Potter was doing the same. Their eyes locked and Draco sneered, in return to which Potter glared. Not finding the girl in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or even Hufflepuff, Draco gave up his search, reminding himself to keep an eye open during classes.

Harry began his search for his previous lab partner, wondering if it would become a meal ritual. Quickly into it, his eyes locked with Malfoy's. He glared in response to Malfoy's ever-present sneer then continued his search. Failing once again, Harry ate his breakfast, looking sullen.

Harry had received an owl stating that he was to meet Dumbledore down at Hagrid's, as they had business to discuss that the large man was privy to. Gulping his pumpkin juice, Harry said goodbye to those closest to him, gathered his things, and hurried down to Hagrid's.

Harry slowed his step as he neared the hut, having just come within hearing distance of a conversation Dumbledore and Hagrid were having. Always looking for new information (and not caring how it was obtained), Harry listened in.

"Yes, Hagrid, now that we're settled, what was she referring to as 'my problem'?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Well, I wouldn' norm'ly tell, but I trust ye, and I don' think she'd min' ye knowin'." Harry could picture Dumbledore nodding understandingly. "Well, I don' know much abou' it, but she says she came 'ere yes'erday (while I was with ye) and she says… well, a thestral came up to her, started letti' her pet it!"

_Thestral? _Harry thought. _ What bullocks! Why would anyone want to pet a thestral, let alone a thestral allowing it?_ Harry mentally snorted, and continued to listen.

"And I presume it came back today?"

"Soun's like," Hagrid agreed.

_Come one, Dumbledore, you're not falling for this, are you? It's a ruse! Now Hagrid I can understand, but you? Wake up, are you blind? _Harry spat.

"It would explain the bite," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

_Bite?_ Harry asked himself. _What bite?_

"Well, Tr-"

"Hagrid, I think it best if we didn't use names. I believe we have an eavesdropper." Harry froze. "You can come in, Harry, we were just finishing our discussion." Harry obliged, but his face must have shown some discontentment, for Dumbledore asked, "What is it, Harry?"

"Dumbledore, you don't actually believe that rubbish, do you?" Harry rushed, glad to be able to say it. The dark look he received from Dumbledore, however, brought his happy feelings down somewhat.

"And why is it rubbish? Do you have evidence against it?" Dumbledore asked calmly, his eyes seeming to dig into Harry's soul.

"It's just…it's not very likely, is it?" Harry countered. "Is it?"

"No, Harry," Dumbledore admitted, making Harry feel pride and superiority. "But neither is a baby being able to survive Voldemort."

Angry at having been bested, Harry cried "But it's not the same!"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling. "Isn't it?"

"No!" Harry yelled, losing his argument even to himself. "They're completely different."

"A girl befriending a thestral, Harry, is much more likely than what happened to you," Dumbledore pointed out.

"She didn't befriend a thestral!" Harry screamed, losing his temper. "She's lying! She's just trying to get attention! She's probably just a death eater wannabe just waiting for you guys to trust her so she can get to me!" Harry seethed, angry that his professors could be so careless with his life. **(A/N: You have to love his logic.) **

"Tha's not true!" Hagrid bellowed. "She's not like tha'!" Hagrid was close to tears, having Harry, a boy he loved, accuse him of not caring for his life, as well as insult one of the best friends Hagrid had.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore growled authoritatively, "you will hold your tongue. You know not of what you speak and insult those only trying to help you. If you wish to put in an opinion, learn the facts; don't make wild and painful guesses. I see you are in a foul mood, so this meeting will be postponed until you learn to hold in that brutish temper of yours. Good day, Hagrid. Mr. Potter." Dumbledore stalked out of the hut without so much as a second glance.

Hagrid, not caring if it was his house, stalked out after him, slamming the door so hard the walls shook. Harry stood alone in the hut, the anger shocked out of him. _Did Dumbledore just…yell at me?_ Harry shook his head in disbelief and strutted out of the cabin, anger boiling inside of him.

((A/N: Xe Vanne: Thank you for reviewing! Please continue, it helps motivate me to put up a new chapter! Yes, the story in material form (pen and notebook) is quite long already. I just have to type it up, and then finish writing it..))


	5. Awkward Confrontation

Trysten left Transfiguration that day with mixed feelings about the upcoming Divination class. The minute she walked into classroom 11, however, she felt as though she would enjoy the class. 'Do the same as you did yesterday, log your results,' was written on the board. She noted that yesterday's activity wasn't named specifically and assumed that meant she would be allowed to proceed with the flame reading. She walked over to the table nearest Firenze's office, feeling an icy chill as she passed within a foot of the table. Realizing she had just passed through a glamour charm, Trysten looked to the table and saw the same set up as the day before. Anxious and excited, she sat at the table and found a scrap of parchment.

'Miss Moonjade,' it read, 'you do not have to put the person's memories in the log, simply who worked, what work, how long it lasted, and the clarity. Good luck, Trysten. –Firenze. P.S. I would appreciate if you did not use me in the casting.'

Trysten nodded to herself, folded the paper ad stuffed it in her pocket. She wondered a moment on who she should See, and finally she decided to look farther into Harry's life, seeing as she now know the memories for what they were. Using the powder liberally to spell Harry's name, Trysten set a magical timer, then whispered, "_Incendi lumo spectra_." The powder swirled into flame and the first memory began.

_All was dark. Apprehension filled the air. There was a flash of green light, then a woman's scream, finally cut to nothing._

_She crouched on a white, tiled floor, scrubbing. She looked up suddenly, seeing a towering, huge man. She was filled with fear as he lifted a hand and brought it down at her._

_Just before it hit, she found herself scrubbing the same floor, her hand notably larger than before. She looked up once more to see the man again, much fatter than before, red in the face. He lifted her roughly and brought her towards the stairs, opened a tiny door, and shoved her in._

_She found herself in a dark room, rain and thunder heard from outside. The door bust in, revealing a big man she now knew to be Hagrid._

_She sat in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, nervous and jittery. She looked from the redhead in front of her to the bushy-haired girl in the doorway._

_She stared up into the eyes of Draco Malfoy, hate brewing within her. He offered a hand, which she refused, thinking of her parents._

_She sat on a broom, a ball of glass in her hand. She looked to the window behind her, saw Professor McGonagall, and was filled with dread._

_In a room foreign to her, she stared into a mirror. The mirror image of Harry moved, putting his hand in his pocket. She looked over into the eyes of an ugly man, his face growing off the back of someone's head._

_She looked down at a giant snake, which was coming up to look at him. Sword in had, she looked the snake in the gashes which used to be its eyes._

_"Kill the spare," something hissed. Agonizing screams ripped through the air, guilt making her nauseous._

_She stood in a dim room, odd sounds filling the air. She looked up to se a man—Sirius—laughing. Images of the man filled her head- smiling, sulking, smirking- his scent filled her nostrils, a warm feeling of love overcoming her. The scene cut back to Sirius laughing, before being hit by a spell, squarely in the chest. His look of surprise quickly turned to one of horror as he began to stumble backward through a cloth…_

"No!" Trysten shrieked, reaching out to grab the outstretched hand of the man she now loved.

Harry was brought back out of his trance by a bloodcurdling scream in the classroom. He looked about him, but saw everyone else doing the same as him, nothing seeming amiss. He was about to blame the sobbing which followed on Moaning Myrtle when Firenze stepped before the class. "Everyone out. Now!" He yelled when no one moved. Swiftly every singed person exited the room, Harry among the last.

Halfway to the Great Hall, he realized he had left his potions book in Divination, so he turned around and went back to classroom 11. He paused in the doorway, surprised by the sight which met him. Firenze stood next to his office, next to a table which Harry could have sworn hadn't been there before. What surprised Harry the most was that seated at the table was a girl.

_My Potions partner!_ Harry realized, grinning. However, his happiness was thwarted when he was that she was crying. Not just crying, shaking. She was staring straight ahead of her, where a floating ball of flame was situated. Firenze put it out, kneeling before her.

"Miss Moonjade," Firenze murmured, a comforting hand on her knee, "what's wrong?"

"He…he's been through so much," she murmured. Firenze began to turn for the door and Harry bolted, deciding to retrieve his textbook after lunch.

Firenze turned toward the door and closed it with his wand, then turned to Trysten once more. "Who?" he asked gently, not wanting to disturb her farther.

"Harry," she croaked, her voice breaking. She looked deeply into Firenze's eyes. "Do you know what has happened to him?"

"Some," Firenze admitted. "You Saw his memories, then?"

"Yes," she told him. She glanced at the table and looked at the parchment there. "Do you think you could write the results I tell you?" She asked, ready to get work done.

Firenze chuckled and wiped the tears from her face. "Alright," he assented, knowing an ordinary activity would help calm her.

"The clarity was…exceptional," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly. She cleared her throat and closed her eyes. "Except the first one was dark. It lasted…"she checked her timer. "Forty-five minutes, the subject was Harry Potter. I used first and last name in generous amounts of powder, a whispered incantation, no wand." She paused, trying to see if she had forgotten anything. "About eleven memories," she added. Trysten shivered involuntarily at the memories and Firenze laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.

"I think…I think I just need to be alone for a while," she murmured, looking down.

Firenze nodded, understanding. "I'll have a house elf bring up lunch for you," he told her. She nodded in thanks and buried her face in her hands. Firenze walked towards the door, but stopped halfway, spotting a forgotten Potions book. He opened the cover, spotted the name 'Harry Potter', and set off to return the pupil's book.

Harry sat at lunch, Ron and Hermione to either side of him. "It was her?" Hermione asked for the hundredth time since Harry told them what he had seen. "The girl who was crying in Divination was the one you've been looking for?"

"It was her, I'm certain of it," Harry confirmed.

"But why couldn't we see her?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"It's obvious, Ron, really. The girl must have cast a glamour charm so no one could see her," Hermione theorized.

"But why wouldn't se want anyone to see her?" Ron asked, sounding a bit whiny for having to ask the obvious questions. Both Harry and Hermione thought on this.

"She must've been doing something," Harry said, a determined glint in his eye. "Something she didn't want us three to know about. Perhaps she was contacting V-"

"Harold James Potter, don't you ever think it. Why on earth would she be contacting You-Know-Who in Divination? Not to mention Firenze must have known about it if he came directly to her afterwards." Hermione reasoned.

"You don't think…Firenze could be a- a Death Eater?" Ron gulped.

"Don't be absurd, Ron. This probably has nothing to do with You-Know-Who. Harry," Hermione began, turning to him, "what were they talking about?"

"I'm not sure, exactly, but when Firenze asked her what happened, she said, 'He's been through so much'."

"And that's why she was crying?" Ron yelped indignantly.

Hermione, being more in tune with female emotions, glared at Ron. "It's simple—she must have been thinking about someone close to her who was going through pain."

"If someone else was feeling pain, why was she crying?" Ron countered.

"It's called empathy, Ron. She felt bad for them," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"So it's pity?" Harry spat, eyes flaring.

"No, Harry. Merlin, you two are impossible. I'm going to the library. When you get the idea of empathy through your think skulls, we can resume t he topic." With those last words, Hermione stood and shouldered her bad. She sighed something that sounded like, "Men," and stalked out of the Great Hall.

Harry and Ron rolled their eyes and began to discuss Quidditch. Firenze entered the Hall and walked up to Harry, who was oblivious. "Mr. Potter," Firenze began, "I do believe you'll need this." He held out Harry's Potions book.

"Oh, right. Thanks, Professor," Harry grinned.

"Just try to remember it next time," Firenze told him serenely. He then strode back out of the hall. Harry turned back to Ron and ginned, then continued their discussion on the Keepers of the various House teams.

Draco snorted as Granger stood and left the hall, leaving her companions looking baffled. A few moments later, Professor Firenze came in and returned a book to Harry Potter. "Bloody muggle-lover," Draco spat. "If I left a book in Divination, no one would return it to me."

"Speaking of Divination," Pansy Parkinson interrupted, "what in Merlin's name happened today?"

"Thought it was the moaner," Crabbe said questioningly, stuffing his face with a muffin.

"I've never heard Moaning Myrtle shriek in agony, Crabbe," Pansy told him, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair.

"That's true," Blaise agreed. "And the way Firenze kicked us all out after it happened…"

"He did look quite panicky," Draco agreed. "Something's not right in that class. See what you can dig up," he told the group. "If anyone can get to the bottom of this, we can."

All dried up and full of comfort food, Trysten numbly trod down the hall, heading to Potions. Not far from her destination, Trysten heard a voice.

"Back off, Malfoy," it hissed.

"What're you going to do about it, Weaselby?" Draco scoffed. "Hex yourself?"

As Trysten rounded the corner she saw Ron redden. Harry and Draco now had each other at wand point, although the each was close to the walls, laving plenty of space between them. _'Kill the spare'_ flooded into Trysten's mind and she strode quickly towards the group, noting sourly that Harry's friends were standing uselessly by, as usual. She didn't hear the argument rise in heat, as her ears were filled with a nasal laugh she now associated with Sirius' death.

"Go," she told Harry's group, stepping in front of Harry. Her body faced Draco, but she had her head turned toward the trio. Caught up in the memories, she didn't realize that the argument had escalated into a duel, meaning Harry and Draco had just cast their spells as she stepped between them. After she had uttered the single word to the trio, she felt fire burning through her back, then starting again hear her heart.

Their spells hit her hard and she found it increasingly hard to breathe. She collapsed to her knees, holding herself up with her hands. She felt as though she were in another sandstorm, her body stinging and her lungs striving for air she couldn't find. A few moments later the worst was over, and she shakily began to sit back up, her legs flat beneath her.

"You," she heard Draco spit, causing her head to snap up and look into the cold, fiery gray eyes. "What in the bloody hell do you think you were doing?" He hissed. "I could've had him!"

A quick glance behind her told her that Harry had left as she instructed, and she attempted a sigh of relief, which she was unable to complete. "Helping," Trysten managed to gasp out, although her chest was on fire.

"What?" Draco asked, forgetting his previous question.

"I…was…h-helping," she ground out.

"Who?" Draco sneered. "Him? Harry bleeding Potter? The boy-who-lived?" She shook her head, remembering the fire in her back (which burned more fiercely than the one she received from Draco). Draco looked at her oddly, waiting for her to answer, caught off-guard by the girl struggling on the floor before her.

"B-both of…you…Draco," she murmured, gasping in pain after the last word. Draco merely stared at her, noting that once again she used his first name.

"What is going on here?" Professor Snape snapped, rounding the corner on his way to class. Draco paled visibly as the professor neared, caught red-handed.

"N-nothing…Prof-fessor," the girl said, pushing herself from the floor, stumbling as she stood. Snape raised an eyebrow and Draco looked at her, surprised and confused. "I-I was just…I…..fell," she said, trying to gasp for breath inconspicuously.

Professor Snape eyes her coolly and was about to retort when the girl raised her hand and brushed her hair back. "What in Merlin's name happened to your hand?"

She looked at him, confused, then glanced at her hand. It was bright red, peeling skin, and bleeding from a few places. "I…I…" She tried to think of a reason but came up blank.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape enunciated, "I think you have some explaining to do."

"Be didn't do it," the girl managed to force out, still struggling for breath.

"What?" Snape asked confusedly, turning to her. He looked skeptically at her. "Miss Moonjade, you don't honestly expect me to believe that-"

"He didn't…do it," the girl said, more forcibly than Draco thought possible in her current state. Following this he found his head bombarded with images of Snape and Potter kissing passionately, tinged with an undercurrent of pleading. Pushing down his nausea, Draco looked to Snape, who turned red with anger, assuring Draco the images were false.

The anger instantly faded, however, when the girl—_Miss Moonjade,_ he reminded himself—collapsed to the ground, trying her hardest to breathe.

"Fine," the professor assented after fixing Draco a glare, which he full-heartedly returned. "But I will find out," he assured her, tapping his head.

As the girl was helped up, she looked to Draco, then back to Snape. She smirked a moment before her voice rippled through his head. _Bloody legimens,_ she complained half-heartedly, obviously directed at Snape. A moment before the professor turned her away from Draco, she looked Draco in the eyes and smiled. Draco watched her limp down the hallway, using Snape as support.

Draco stared after them for a few moments after they disappeared, then headed to the Potions class, the girl's smile never leaving his head.

**(A/N: Perfect by Nature, thanks for the tips! I'll try to do some more character development.**

**I love reviews! If you review, perhaps you can even have a hand in the outcome of the story! Or, I can make a character out of you! Or a cookie! Everyone loves cookies, right?)**


	6. Kitchen Confessions

Trysten winced as Snape slammed his office door behind them, bracing herself for Snape's anger. "What in the bloody hell do you think you were doing? Dueling with Draco Malfoy?" Trysten concentrated on breathing while Snape shouted, his words lost in her disorientation. Feeling as if it would only get worse, she put up her hand and gasped audibly.

"As…fun as th-this…is…ca we…f-fix…" She gestured helplessly to her body, battling for air. Snape snapped out of his rant.

"What did he hit you with?" Snape asked, suddenly business-like. Trysten shrugged and tried to recall that particular moment. Sensing her struggle, Snape cleared his throat. "I'll use legimency to find out." Amused by the warning glare the girl shot him but refusing to show it, he gave her a glare in return. "Discuss it with me later, when you can talk." Not waiting for permission, he dove into her mind, trying to find the right moment. He saw a flash of flame, an empty corridor, then Potter and Draco standing at wand point. He worked slowly through the last few moments, then managed to hear Malfoy shout _'athsmatico'_. Finding this out and oblivious to the second hex, he stepped out of her mind and pointed his wand at her. "_Respiro normalus,_" he said. Waiting a moment to see if it worked, he nodded once when she took a deep sigh. "Now, what-"

"Professor, could I have something for…this?" She lifted her hand. Grumbling about putting things off, Severus dug in his desk for a salve and a potion.

"Pain killer," he motioned to the potion. He gave her an inquisitive look regarding the salve.

"I'll do it," she told him. He handed her the salve and she downed the potion before gingerly applying the salve to her hand.

"What happened?" Snape snapped impatiently.

"To my hand or in the hall?" she asked earnestly.

Snape deliberated a moment. "Hand first."

Trysten winced then gave him a sheepish grin. "I reached into a seeing fire."

Snape snorted. "Why on earth did you do that?"

"I didn't mean to," Trysten pouted playfully. Her expression grew somber. "Someone was…falling," she amended. Feeling Snape begin to pick at her brain, she snapped, "They're not my memories to give."

Giving an inward smirk at the Ravenclaw's Gryffindor-worthy show of honor, he stopped. "And in the hallway?"

She gestured to the roll of gauze Snape had ready, which he gave to her before she responded. "I saw a duel beginning between Draco and Harry, and…I stepped in." She snorted. "Literally. I stepped between them as the first hexes were cast, leaving me…" She gestured to her chest.

Snape smirked. "Potter wasn't quick enough to the draw?" Trysten didn't answer. As Snape was about to inquire further, a new thought crossed his mind. "And the Gryffindor Golden Boy just left you?"

Not having thought of it as betrayal and cowardice, Trysten paused. "Yes. I told him to," she admitted.

"While you were gasping for breath?"

Trysten blushed. "Before the hexes hit me."

"Hexes?" Snape asked, suddenly at attention. Trying to get Snape to ignore her mistake, she shifted in her seat, which happened to be the edge of Snape's desk.

"What about Draco? You're not going to punish him, are you?"

"As much as I wish I could forget this, this requires action. Even of my own house," he sighed regretfully.

"No," Trysten told him firmly.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"No. I was wronged and I do not seek amends. I will not have you punishing him."

"I think I liked it better when you wouldn't breathe," he sneered.

Trysten smirked back. As she opened her mouth to retort, she found herself short of breath once more. Looking at the professor in accusation and disbelief, she found him just as confused as she.

"_Respiro normalus,_" he snapped. "What was that?"

"How should I know?" She took a breath, having a theory. "Well…there was one more hex." At Snape's raised eyebrow, she sighed. "Harry was able to throw a hex back at Draco….which I received." She winced. "He didn't say anything. I think it was a mental casting."

Snape glared into space. "I can only imagine Mr. Potter used a hex which repeats the last hex used on you periodically for a set amount of time."

"Next," Trysten amended. "The next hex. Harry's hit me first. I was closer to him," she quickly added, seeing the professor's rage grow. Seeing the twinkle in his eye, she looked sternly at him. "You will give neither Draco nor Harry any grief about his, is that understood?" Seeing Severus' smug look, she glared. "If I find out either Draco or Harry has been made unhappy by you regarding this incident, you will find the image of Harry's naked body on to of yours permanently etched into your brain, as well as plastered in the Slytherin dorms." He fixed her a death glare, which she easily ignored. "It's almost time for class. Thank you for your help," she added as an afterthought, heading for the door.

"Miss Moonjade," Professor Snape began coolly, "Should the hex act up again, or your hand gives you trouble with which you cannot deal, you may go out into the hallway. If you require assistance, call for me in your mind, since you seen so fond of sending me…messages. I'll be listening. Go ahead; I'm going to clean up in here."

Trysten left the office, knowing that the door she closed behind her now had a silencing charm on it to mask the fact that her professor was ranting and swearing very loudly inside. Whipping out a piece of parchment, she tore it in half. Quickly, she wrote:

_'Harry-_

_Tell me should Snape give you trouble. (More than usual)_

_-T. Moonjade'_

She folded it quickly and walked by Harry's desk, dropping it atop his Potions book. Snape stormed out of his office and began to write on the board. The class quieted slightly, but continued chatting. Taking out the other half of the parchment, Trysten set to work.

_'Draco-_

_Sorry your hex didn't go as planned. Snape's been told to leave you be. Should he try to punish you, let me know and I'll get it fixed._

_-T. Moonjade'_

She folded the paper into an origami crane and cast a spell to make it fly, a trick she learned from her time in Japan. She found Draco and caught his eye (which hadn't been hard since he was staring at her), then flew the note over to him.

She looked to the board as Snape began to lecture, then instructed them to do bookwork in small groups or individually. Trysten was halfway through her essay on Felix Felicis when the hex set in once more. Gasping in one breath and attempting to hold it, Trysten made for the door, the stool she knocked over an inconspicuous noise in the loud classroom. She got outside the classroom and sank down the wall. Struggling to breathe once more and the pain in her back starting up again, she clenched her eyes and thought as hard as she could, _'Severus!'_

Draco hadn't worked at all that Potions class, pondering instead the note Moonjade had sent him. He was studying the girl when suddenly her face paled and contorted, followed by her escape from the room. He had hardly a moment to question this when a voice ripped through his mind. _ "Severus!"_ It called, its need and pain surprising Draco.

"Attention!" the teacher snapped suddenly. "I have to leave for a moment. No fooling around while I'm gone or you all will be punished. Giving the class a glare, Snape strode quickly from the room. Incredibly interested in why the girl had fled so suddenly, as well as why she called to his godfather by his first name, Draco gave Blaise and Pansy a mischievous smirk before silently slipping out the door. Pressing the door closed behind him, Draco leaned against it, listening. "_Respiro normalus_," Snape muttered. "Couldn't do that yourself?"

Draco could tell Severus was mad at himself for being worried and smirked. "Sorry, it's kind of hard to say an incantation correctly when you can't breathe!" Moonjade snapped.

"I can't see why you're protecting Mr. Malfoy," Snape commented.

"I can't see why you care," she retorted. "Beside, it's not Draco's curse that's doing this."

_Not my curse?_ Draco asked himself, puzzled. _Who else's could it be?_

"Ah, yes," Snape sneered. "We have the charming Mr. Potter to blame for this. And yet you won't let me get at him either."

"No, I won't. Harry didn't mean to hit me."

Snape snorted. "But he left you writhing on the ground."

_He did, didn't he?_ Draco questioned, amazed at the audacity the boy had shown. _He had to have known he hit her with…whatever it was._

"Because I told him to. And I wasn't writhing. Severus Snape, you had better keep your anger in check before you do something you'll regret." Draco listened to her shoes scuffle on the stone as, he assumed, she tried successfully to stand.

"Miss Moonjade," Snape began in a playfully scornful tone, "You've ripped your uniform on the stone."

"I have not!" She cried indignantly. "That was from the bloody th-" She stopped.

"The bloody what?" Snape asked seriously.

The girl sighed. "Alright I'll tell you… better yet, I'll show you. So you'll know I'm not making it up." Draco butted in with his legimency as Snape begin to filter through. He went slowly through every moment, but as soon as Draco began to hear a man's voice, she booted Snape, and therefore Draco, abruptly.

"Whose voice was that?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"I…think it was Hagrid's," The girl answered. "He and Dumbledore came down to Hagrid's this morning." She sighed. "Professor, perhaps it is best we headed in. You have a class to attend to and I have an essay to write."

Snape nodded. "You go in first, amidst the raucous. I'll follow later." Realizing they were coming his way, Draco quickly slipped inside the chaotic room and went to his seat, pondering the strange Miss Moonjade and the majestic creature she had been with.

When the period had ended, Trysten was happy that she had managed to finish her Felix Felicis essay within the interrupted class time, and wasn't hit with another reoccurrence. Trysten hummed under her breath as she walked down to Hagrid's deciding to do so before it got dark and just eat dinner later. She knocked a syncopated rhythm on Hagrid's door, which cracked open. Frowning, she opened the door, only to find the fire cold and Hagrid nowhere to be found. She went out the back door, hoping to find Hagrid in the gardens, but wasn't surprised when he was absent.

Looking around, Trysten was surprised to see the thestral looking at her for the second time that day. It stood by the edge of the forest, staring at her warmly. Smiling, Trysten walked up to him, courteously bowing deeply before reaching out to stroke his leathery neck. Unbeknownst to her, the man from the morning came closer to watch.

"Hey, there, boy," she crooned. "Twice in one day? You'll spoil me." As Trysten opened her mouth to speak, she felt a familiar dizziness as her lungs refused to work. Surprised by the swift retribution of the hex, she stumbled sideways, catching herself roughly on a tree. Collapsing onto her knees as she grabbed for her wand, she didn't notice the pale young man moving towards her, confusion and worry disrupting his serene countenance. Pointing her wand at her chest and taking as deep a breath as she could manage, Trysten ground out, "_Respiro normalus._" Feeling her lungs relax and her heartbeat become steady, she groggily stood, her hand on her head.

She smiled reassuringly at the thestral, but saw instead a strange glint in his eye. His nostrils huffed, and the thestral bore its pointy teeth, slowly stepping toward her. Confused, Trysten put a hand up to calm it and paled at the sight that met her. Her injured hand had been battered in her fall and was once again bleeding steadily. A passage whipped through her mind. _'Thestrals are carnivorous and are attracted to the smell of blood.'_

"Blood," she murmured, glancing at her hand. "Oh no!" Stumbling backwards, her eyes never leaving the thestral's, Trysten suddenly found herself covered in darkness, a cold hand on her shoulder. She heard a hiss and hooves stomping, then nothing. The darkness slowly left her, the billowing edges of a cloak leaving her vision. She looked before her to find the thestral gone. She gazed to her left and saw the pale young man of her morning's adventures leaning on a tree. "Thank you," she murmured, almost certain that the man had somehow saved her.

The man smirked. "A thestral may be friendly, but tempt any man with what he most desperately desires, and all ties will be forgotten until the desire is fulfilled."

An odd chill penetrated Trysten as she considered this remark. She cleared her throat to rid herself of the eerie feeling. "So the thestral is male, then?" The man nodded. "Suits him," she mumbled.

"What of you?" the elegant voice asked.

"I'm…not male," Trysten answered, quite confused.

He smiled. "No, I can see that. I meant your situation." He looked her over. "You seem to be having a rather poor day."

Trysten grinned. "If being bitten by a thestral, receiving massive Transfiguration homework, seeing horrid memories, burning your entire hand, being hexed twice, yelled at by a teacher, attacked by a thestral, and aggravating said hand to the point of bleeding twice would constitute as a poor day, then one might say that, yes," she finished dryly. "What about you?" She asked, looking him over. "Is there a point to you hanging around the Forbidden Forest, or are you looking for a honeymoon location?"

The man smiled, then shrugged regally. "One could say…I have a task to complete."

Raising one eyebrow, Trysten looked skeptically at hi, but knew the world of secrets well enough not to push the matter. "Is your name a secret as well?"

"No, it's not," he chuckled.

"Could you tell it to me, then?" she prodded. "Please?"

"Could I know yours?" The insistent gleam in his eye told Trysten she would have to disclose before he did.

Sighing, she looked to him in mock annoyance. "And if I decline?"

"Well, names aren't used that often, are they?" The man smiled, amused. The looked at her expectantly.

Stubborn as a Gryffindor (and made so by the head of Slytherin, ironically), she jutted out her chin. "No, I suppose not." She looked him in the eyes a mischievous glint adorning her own.

Amidst their stare-down, a voice broke the silence. "Hagrid!" It called. "Hagrid!"

"Interrupted yet again," the man murmured. "Very well. I'll be seeing you again; I have no doubt of it."

Giving him an amused smirk, Trysten turned and walked towards Hagrid's cabin, certain he'd disappear as before. She entered the back door and had just closed it when she heard a hurried knock from the front. She went to open it and looked into the surprised face of one Harry Potter. "C-Can I help you?" she asked, equally as shocked.

Harry shifted in place. "Where's Hagrid?" he asked suspiciously.

Trysten shrugged. "He was gone when I got here. He should be back soon, though. Would you like to wait inside?" Harry nodded stiffly after a moment's hesitation, and Trysten opened the door wider so he could slip inside. Shutting it behind him, she turned to find he had already seated himself. "Tea?"

"Please," Harry said, studying the girl as she bent to blow the flames to life. "Have you been waiting long?" he asked conversationally as he looked at her.

"Oh, not too long. Just since dinner began."

"Dinner's over," he told her, eying her as she jumped.

"Really?" the girl looked amazed and perplexed as she set the kettle on the now-roaring fire.

"Tell me," Harry began coldly, "if you have been here for nearly two hours, why is it you're just starting the fire now?"

Trysten looked him over, insulted by the insinuations he arrogantly spat at the girl who took a hex for and from him merely hours before. "Not that it's any of your business, but I was tending the garden."

"Hagrid is my business," Harry sneered.

"As he is mine," she said incredulously, shaking her head in disbelief. The tea kettle began to whistle, breaking the silence but not the tension. Trysten expertly got out two mugs and poured the tea, handing Harry a mug and keeping one for herself.

Harry cocked an eyebrow in amusement as the girl plopped down on Hagrid's bed and sat cross-legged. "What business brings you here?" she asked, sipping her tea experimentally. "Perhaps I can help."

"I doubt it," he told her, not noticing her hurt glare. "It has to do with…" He stalled, thinking of something only Hagrid could know. Recalling second year, Harry smirked, ready to show her how much more he knew than she did. "Aragog."

Awaiting her look of confusion, Harry was disappointed when she grimaced. "Not a nice little bugger, is he?" She snorted. "Nor that little." Harry stared in astonishment, but before he could question her, the door swung open.

"'Arry? Tryst'n?" Hagrid asked. Any worries he may have had dissolved taking in Trysten's relaxed posture. "What're you two doing here?"

"I came to…talk," Harry said secretively.

"About Aragog, apparently," Trysten added before drinking another gulp. "And I was wondering…" She looked to Hagrid hopefully.

"No solutions yet. As much as I hate to refer you, perhaps Professor Snape would know more about the topic tha' me." Trysten nodded and stood. "Too late tonigh'," Hagrid added. Trysten nodded and went to the door.

"Harry," she nodded, "Hagrid." She left, securing the door behind her.

"Puzzled, Hagrid turned to the boy at the table. "Now, 'Arry, why are yeh askin' after Aragog?" Harry shook his head and stirred his tea, Hagrid sitting down as he waited for Harry to explain.

Irritated by Harry's audacity, the feeling only accentuated by her growing hunger, Trysten stormed down to the kitchens. Tickling the pear rather painfully, she yanked open the door. Greeted by a few fearful, startled yelps from the house elves, Trysten took a deep breath to calm herself down. Forcing a small smiled, she looked down to see Rifka and Dobby side by side, awaiting orders.

"I seem to have missed dinner, do you think I could take some back to my dorm room?" Trysten asked tentatively. Seeing the rush the kitchens were in, she put up a hand to pause them. "You seem overrun. Could I help with cleanup first?" Glancing at Dobby, she smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I forgot. No helping."

"Of course Miss Moonjade can help!" Dobby cried, surprising her. "Dobby has heard what Miss Moonjade has done for Harry Potter. Dobby is sorry for doubting Miss Moonjade," he finished solemnly.

"Don't worry about it, Dobby," Trysten told him cheerfully. "How did you find out?"

"Dobby overheard Snape talking to headmaster Dumbledore," Dobby admitted.

Trysten's eyes flared. "Snape talked to Dumbledore?" She sighed. "Well, it wasn't Draco or Harry. Shall we get to work?" Dobby nodded and took Trysten reverently by the hand, Rifka following behind.

Draco had just finished his Transfiguration essay, having skipped dinner and spent it in the library. Wanting food for thought before starting his Potions essay, Draco headed down to the kitchens, knowing he'd receive his fill. With a grunt of disgust, Draco reached out and tickled the pear on a painting. _Why in Merlin's name did Dumbledore make this the bloody trick to get into the kitchen? Probably some bloody muggle thing,_ he thought irritably. As he swung the door open, his indifferent mask was barely able to cover his surprise at the sight he saw. Amidst hundreds of house elves was the girl from earlier that day, cleaning dishes with the creatures as if she were one of them. _Merlin! What does she think she's doing?_ He thought incredulously. The traitorous house elf that used to belong to the Malfoys dove behind the girl, startling her. She looked to the door, and, upon seeing Draco, she smiled. Wiping her hands on a towel she walked over to him, still smiling.

"Come for a late dinner, Draco?"

"Yes," he told her, still trying to figure her out.

"Rifka, could you come here a moment?" The girl called behind her.

Expecting another witch to be hidden behind a shelf, Draco was surprised when an elf came waddling up, although he would never show it. "Yes, Miss Moonjade?" the elf asked in its—her?—squeaky little voice.

"Could a few of you dif up something to eat? And remember, it's Trysten," she told it, smiling.

_Is she on a first name basis with these things?_ Draco thought, appalled.

"Of course, Trysten," the elf said carefully.

"Thank you," Trysten murmured before turning back to Draco, motioning him to a nearby table. "Do you mind if I eat with you? I haven't eaten yet," she explained.

"Of course I mind," Draco snapped automatically, despite the odd feeling within him that had started at her request. Studying her, he noticed she seemed uncharacteristically hurt by this, and, for some reason, it bothered her. "I suppose it's the least I can do," he sighed, gesturing to the seat across from him. She sat, smiling gratefully.

The elves swiftly brought out dinner, the girl murmuring different phrases of gratitude, not all of them in English. They began to eat dinner, the only noise in the room the clinking of silverware. Tired of silence, Draco cleared his throat, making the girl jump. "What were you doing down here?"

"Just helping the elves," Trysten said, as if it were perfectly normal.

"Helping the elves? Merlin! Why would you do that?"

"They were bust," she told him simply.

"And they just let you come in here and help?" Draco nearly yelled.

"Oh, no. They wouldn't let me at first. But then Dobby heard about…what happened in the hallway, so he decided he trusted me not to poison 'Harry Potter'," she mimicked kindly.

_She asked to help? Numerous times?_ Draco shook his head to clear it of the notion as if he were afraid it was contagious. Thinking over her sentence, Draco prodded his food with his fork a moment. "What did happen in the hallway?"

"What?" she asked, fear flickering over her face. "You were there, don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember," Draco sneered, masking his confusion over the relief that she showed. "That doesn't mean I understand it."

"Oh," she sighed, shifting in her seat. "What don't you understand?"

"Why Snape didn't kill me. Why you smiled after I hexed you. Why you said you were helping. Why you took a hex for Harry sodding Potter!"

Trysten smiled sadly and say back in her chair, as if she knew this was coming. "So many questions. First, Snape hasn't killed you yet," she put emphasis on the word, "because…I have a bit of leverage over him at the moment. But I've no doubt he is already searching for a way to beat that." Draco nodded, agreeing with this statement. Trysten sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "I assume the most pressing is why I protected Harry?" She asked simply. Draco nodded and she closed her eyes momentarily. "I had something of…a revelation this morning. I was in Divination this morning, looking through some memories…Harry's memories." At Draco's confused look she added," I'm on a somewhat…different project. Anyhow, I was struck by how much loss Harry has had to endure," she paused to glare at Draco's snort, "and…I was viewing one last memory…and I had to watch a man die. There was nothing I could do and-and-" She took a breath, realizing her voice was shaking. "I don't know if Harry's emotions were channeling through or…if it just struck to close to home, but-"

"You were the one," Draco interrupted, gazing at her in wonder. "In Divination, you were the one that screamed." Draco studied her as she blushed.

"Yes… I didn't know I was doing it at the time. After all of you left and after I had time to calm down, I walked to Potions, where I ran into Harry, Hermione, Ron…and you. I guess I was still a little emotional," she admitted, "because before I knew it I was telling Harry to leave and getting hexed from both sides." The girl dragged her fork through her food then dropped it. "So now you know why."

He studied her defeated, defensive posture and decided further insult wouldn't be appropriate. "What did Potter hex you with?" he asked, convincing himself it was only to know what the boy had tried to hit him with.

"He did it mentally, so we don't know the name," she told him. Draco raised an eyebrow at we' but allowed her to continue. "Its effects, however, we are pretty sure of. The hex Harry cast was designed to take the next spell cast on the person and repeats it periodically for a set amount of time. How periodically and how long we have no clue." Again, she smiled sadly and toyed with her food.

"How many times so far?"

"Three," she answered reaching for her glass.

Eyes attracted to the abrupt motion, Draco let out a hint of a grimace. "Your hand is bleeding," he pointed out.

"Bloody hell," she cried, exasperated. "Again?" Conjuring up gauze, she didn't see the amused shock that registered over Draco's face. "_Scourgify,_" she murmured, cleansing away the blood.

_So there is something behind that sweet disposition,_ Draco smirked. Awaiting the resumption of conversation, Draco watched the girl struggle to do bandage her wound one-handed. Amusement disappearing quickly to be replaced with impatience, Draco soon stood with a dry statement of "Merlin." Taking the bandage from the girl, he began to gently wind her hand in gauze. "How in Merlin's name did you manage to do this?" he asked, a twinge of unwanted worry entering his mind as he gazed upon the battered flesh.

She looked at him, a twinkle in her eye. "Remember that memory I had told you about? The man dying?" Draco nodded as he continued his work. "Well…he was falling. So, naturally, I reach out to grab him." Draco paused in his ministrations, wondering just what else was 'natural' for the girl. He resumed as she began to speak again. "It just didn't really register that the manifestation of the memory was made…of…fire," she finished, the last few words lost as she gazed at the delicate pale hands caressing her own. She sat silently as he finished.

Smirking as he stood to examine the work, a devastating thought crossed his mind. _Did I just help her?_ Swallowing hard, Draco took a step backwards. "I should go," he told her. "I still have my Potions essay to finish."

Grimacing, the girl stood as well. "And I have Transfiguration." Watching with interest as the elves cleared the plates away, she shifted her weight to one side. "Thank you for the help," she told him, lifting her bandaged hand.

Wincing internally, Draco smirked. "Next time, don't stop into a duel," he advised smugly. "Bloody Gryffindor bravery." Draco strode toward the door.

"I'm not," Trysten called, making Draco freeze with his hand on the door.

"Not what?" he asked, not facing her.

"Gryffindor."

"…Oh," Draco managed to say, confused by a sense of relief set deep within him. Saying nothing more, Draco slipped out the door and closed it behind him. Draco walked to the Slytherin lair his thoughts preoccupied, and barely managed to glare at Pansy when she bounced up to him and started talking madly. Unable to drive her off, Draco went to his bedroom to work and slammed the door in her face.

Sitting before a roll of parchment, Draco sighed. _I'd better make this quality work. Severus isn't likely to take it easy on me while he's ready to kill me._ However, Draco did not start his essay for several minutes, the relationship between his godfather and Trysten occupying his thoughts.

**(A/N: XeVanne: Don't worry, more Draco is on the way. And as for Harry in Chapter Four: In the summary I put "Characters brought to their extremes", or some variation of that. What I mean was Hermione will be extra snobbish and book-wormy, Ron will be thick and hot-headed, and Harry will be defensive and offensive, quick to blame, and quite selfish. I'm not sure which extremes others will be brought to, but those are the main ones. Sorry for the misspellings.  If you'd let me know what they are, I can fix them. Or if it doesn't really matter that is fine too. And…Harold will be his first name… for no reason. Well, you will be granted more Draco, but since you're such a consistent reader, and the first reviewer, you can still have a character if you'd like. -.)**


	7. Unwanted Apologies

Trysten awakened Friday morning to discover she had fallen asleep in the back corner of the library. Upon learning she had but five minutes to get to Transfiguration, she charmed her clothes clean and pressed, decided to skip breakfast, and rushed off to the Transfiguration classroom.

Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, looking quite ruffled, with instructions written on the board. They told the students to bring their scrolls up to her desk as they came in. Slipping into the semblance of a line, she noticed the professor glanced up at each student as they set down the parchment, but otherwise kept her eyes staring steadily at the pile of scrolls, as if afraid where they would look if she didn't keep them fixated.

After a few moments of shuffling forward, Trysten found herself in front of the professor's desk. Placing her finished essay down on the pile, she met Professor McGonagall's eyes as the older woman glanced up. The shock and surprise in her eyes quickly faded into a solemn sadness. The corners of her eyes were red, as though she had been crying. Before Trysten could study her farther Minerva McGonagall's eyes were downcast once more.

While the class talked, Trysten watched as the professor silently counted the scrolls. A small, sad smile of relief passed by her lips. She stood. "Attention students," McGonagall stated, her voice lacking its usual power. "Seeing as all present students managed to turn in their essays, I am canceling today's lesson." Trysten gaped at her usually strict professor, unbelieving. "However," she articulated, "a foot of parchment will be due on the eighth chapter, due tomorrow. I suggest you use your free time to complete this assignment. Elsewhere."

The students quickly filed out; some giddy, some confused, and some gloomy ('some' being Hermione Granger). When the classroom emptied, Trysten walked quietly up to her teacher's desk, where the latter was cradling her head in her hands.

"Professor?" Trysten whispered.

Minerva glared upward, a flare which softened when she saw who was there. "Yes, child?" she asked wearily.

Seeing how tired McGonagall was, Trysten decided not to pry. "I just wanted to let you know…if you ever need someone to talk to, my lips are sealed." Turning and walking straight through the door, Trysten missed the look of surprised gratitude that graced her professor's smiling face.

"I suggest you use your free time to complete this assignment. Elsewhere." Draco rolled his eyes at the Gryffindor Head's advice and turned around abruptly, his robes billowing in a Snape-worthy fashion. Managing to be one of the first out the door, Draco veered off the main path. His friends, if one could call them that, had recently grown accustomed to Draco's disappearing acts and wouldn't go in search of him. Slipping through unused passageways, Draco avoided all human contact (although he did run into Nearly-Headless Nick) and arrived at the lakeshore undisturbed.

His mind was racing, although his outward appearance showed no sign of it. In his frustration he heaved a rock into the peaceful water, glaring at the ripples in created as if they were the sole source of all his problems. Draco sighed heavily as he saw a tentacle poking out of the water's surface and stood, a new destination in mind.

Several minutes later, Draco stood outside Severus Snape's classroom doors. As he raised his hand to open the door, he froze at the sound of voices. Several, in fact.

"And five points from Gryffindor for sheer stupidity," he heard Snape hiss. Amidst his amusement at the Gryffindor's plight, Draco had a revelation.

"Severus is in class," Draco thought aloud. Swearing colorfully, Draco spun on his heel and wandered the halls, now unsure of where to go.

"You two haven't written a word, have you?" Hermione assumed condescendingly (but accurately) as she returned from a quick run to a far section of the library. Dropping her books noisily onto the table, Hermione sighed as she continued her already over-done Transfiguration assignment.

"We were discussing something important," Ron protested.

Hermione snorted skeptically. "What?"

"Quidditch," Harry told her, Ron's ears turning red.

"You honestly believe Quidditch is more important than your schoolwork?" Ron looked at her as if she were stating the most obvious fact in the world. "Work, Ronald," Hermione told him fiercely.

After a few moments of silent work, Harry's quill suddenly stopped moving. Confused, Hermione looked up to see a venomous look of suspicion and malice directed past her shoulder. "It's her," he spat.

Following Harry's gaze, Hermione could only assume he meant the meek-looking girl tiptoeing through the rowdier part of the library, a load of books in hand and a brown curtain of hair hiding her face.

"Who?" Ron asked, looking conspicuously all over the room before zeroing in on the girl Hermione and Harry were staring at.

Hermione turned back to the table, thinking. "Who is she, exactly?" The mean, aloof look Harry sent her way at that simple comment made Hermione feel as though her heart was being slowly grated over a searing fire. "I know that's the girl you've been looking for," Hermione put together hastily, "but who is she? Name? House? Personality traits?"

Harry flicked a note towards her. "T. Moonjade, not Gryffindor, and evil."

"Harry," Hermione began tentatively, "this note doesn't sound evil, it sounds-"

"It's a trick! It has to be."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ron snatched the note from her hand, then sighed, glancing at the girl, who had settled down discreetly a few yards from their table. "I'll see what I can find out." She closed her books and, glancing about her, stood. Her gaze locked on the girl and Hermione began walking over to her. The girl looked up as she approached and met her gaze. "Um…hi," Hermione stammered.

"Hello, Hermione," the girl greeted cheerfully, although she looked anxious as soon as the words left her mouth.

"Could- Could I borrow the notes you took from yesterday's…Potions?"

The girl eyes her suspiciously, then took out her notes and handed them over. "All but the essay."

"Thanks," Hermione smiled. "I'll bring them back soon." She left the girl and returned to her two friends. Sitting down, she shuffled through, making mental notes as she went.

"Notes!" Ron cried dubiously.

"Yes, Ronald, notes. You should try taking them sometime." Hermione glanced over all the pages, then looked up to Harry's expectant eyes. "Intelligent, caring, very meticulous," Hermione evaluated, stating the last quality a bit sourly, as the girl's scrupulous efforts rivaled even her own. "Thorough, ambitious, solitary. Works as well as she can, strives for excellence. Probably Rav-"

"Slytherin," Harry interrupted, hate in his eyes.

"Harry, I don't think-"

"You learned all that from notes?" Ron squeaked.

"Strives for excellence," Harry persisted.

Sighing and quite fed up with Harry's unilateral views, Hermione sighed and stood, walking back to the girl. "Thanks, Moonjade," she told her.

"No problem." As Hermione was about to turn, the girl began to speak. "Now tell me," she paused as Hermione froze, "what did you really want to know?"

"I-I just wanted notes," Hermione flushed.

"Yesterday in Potions was a free study day. No notes. You already know my name, and you debated with Harry and Ron after merely glancing at my notes, you never slack off in class, and you're bright red," the girl pointed out. "What was your question?"

Hermione asked the first thing to come to mind. "What's your first name?"

The girl stared at her a moment, then picked up the notes she had lent Hermione and pointed to the upper right-hand corner. "Trysten."

"Oh," Hermione stated simply before turning to head back to Harry, a new thought revolving in her mind. _Perhaps she's more Slytherin than I thought._

After the odd processions with Hermione, Trysten felt quite uncomfortable in the library and decided it was time to pay Dumbledore a visit. Sneaking out of the library, Trysten headed straight for the gargoyle which guarded the Headmaster's office. Ignorant of the password, Trysten merely knocked as loudly as she could, hoping for a reply. To her surprise, the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing the stairway, which she climbed quite quickly. Reaching the inner door, she knocked again.

"Come in," the elderly man called, his voice muffle by the door. Carefully, Trysten swung it open and stepped into his office. "Ah, Miss Moonjade. How nice it is to see you again." He held a bowl out to her. "Lemon drop?"

"I'd love one," Trysten assented, knowing the candy from her childhood. She took one and popped it in her mouth. "How have you been, Headmaster?"

"Oh, just splendid," Dumbledore told her, his eyes sparkling even more brightly. He smiled kindly. "But I take it you didn't come here merely to inquire about my health."

Trysten smiled. "No, Sir. I have a few…matters I wish to discuss with you." Albus raised his eyebrows but did not reply. "One regarding Severus Snape, one regarding Minerva McGonagall, and one…well, we'll get there later."

"I take it, then" Dumbledore began knowingly, "you know that Severus came to speak with me about an incident involving…"

"Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter," Trysten stated, picking up where the Headmaster left off. "I want to know what's going to happen."

"Happen?" Dumbledore asked, stroking his beard.

"Yes. As for punishments, notifications, and the like," Trysten listed, shocking even herself by the business-like quality the possessed.

Studying the girl before him, Dumbledore asked, "And what would you wish to be done?"

"Nothing," Trysten said simply. "No detention, suspension, lectures, or apologies."

"Why not? I'm sure Mr. Malfoy hasn't been the kindest to you, he isn't king to anyone. Perhaps I could understand Mr. Potter, but…"

"Neither of them meant to hex me. It was purely accidental. And Draco meant to hit me no more than Harry did, if not less so. I tried to explain this to Severus, but he couldn't understand, so I used…other methods."

Dumbledore nodded. "I had wondered why Professor Snape came to me instead of dealing with it himself. Do I understand correctly? You want neither Mr. Potter nor Mr. Malfoy to receive punishment."

"That is correct, Sir."

Albus nodded, his eyes twinkling vividly. "Very well. And the next matter, concerning Minerva?"

"She seemed…quite upset today. She had to cancel class and seemed pretty distraught. I was wondering if I could help her at all."

The headmaster looked grim. "I am afraid not. The matters with which Minerva is dealing are very difficult for all to endure. But thank you for your concern; I will do what I can. The third matter?"

"I believe you already know of it," Trysten started, looking him over. "The thestral."

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "Hagrid told me. I am researching that matter currently. For now, tell no one except for Minerva, Hagrid, Severus, and myself, as well as Poppy, should injuries be severe. I will get back to you as soon as I can." Dumbledore smiled. "You aren't wearing your house colors."

Trysten glanced at her robes and realized she was still wearing the robes she received from the mysterious room she slept in two nights prior. "Sorry, Headmaster, I-….I-"

Dumbledore raised a hand to pause her stammering. "It's fine. Continue to wear Housed or Un-housed robes as you wish. The colors are merely to create a sense of community, but seeing as you tend to extract yourself from others, it is quite pointless. However, should a professor ask you to don Housed robes, please respect their wishes.

"Yes, Albus," Trysten murmured, standing. She headed to the door, but paused at the doorway to say a proper goodbye.

As she opened her mouth to speak, the headmaster beat her to it. "Trysten, be extra careful regarding the thestral around Harry Potter. He overheard Hagrid and me discussing an anonymous girl befriending a thestral, and he…well, he accused her of being under Voldemort's control." Trysten gaped at him for a moment.

"I had noticed Harry's logic was…askew," Trysten murmured, describing it as politely as she could. "Currently, I believe I prefer the company of Draco to Harry." At Dumbledore's uncertain look, she explained, "I'd rather be with a sarcastic tough guy than with a fame-crazed egomaniac on a power trip with a devastating past and the power to cause eternal damage with half-cocked accusations."

After a moment's pause for thought, Albus nodded. "It's your choice. Good day, Miss Moonjade."

"Goodbye, Headmaster." Baffled as ever, Trysten slipped out of his office and descended the stairs, wondering why 'Harry and Company' had developed such an interest in her. Deciding to put off such matters until she had time to think of them, Trysten pushed all related thoughts from her mind and hurried off towards Potions.

Pacing in an annoyed fashion around the corner from the Potions classroom, Draco ran a hand through his hair. The fact that class prevented him from talking with Severus when he so desperately needed to added just one more reason for Draco to hate school. "Bloody deathtrap," he murmured aloud. Getting impatient, Draco rounded the corner to see if class was out when he was stopped by an odd sight. The girl—_Trysten,_ he reminded himself—was imitating his actions, presumably without knowing she was doing so. She paced along the stretch of wall between the corner and the Potions door, running a hand through the roots of her hair.

Having been facing away from him, Trysten turned to resume her pacing only to stop dead in her tracks when she caught sight of him. "Draco," she greeted after a shocked silence. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"That's because I just got…here," he gestured to the ground immediately in front of him. In the awkward silence that followed, Draco watched as she fidgeted with her hands, her eyes unfocused. "Have something on your mind?"

The look she gave him was one of mixed surprise, anger, insult, and fear. "Perhaps," she answered hesitantly. "Something on yours?"

"Perhaps," Draco smirked, making any worry that may have entered his mind dissolve before reaching his face.

"Anything I could help with?" Trysten asked sincerely, stepping forward.

Draco snorted, "I doubt it." He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly.

"Oh? What is it then?" She asked in a tone Draco couldn't identify. "Love problems? No, a Malfoy would never love…At least not admit to it. Self-image? No, you seem quite confident." Draco could hear her step closer with each option. "Depression? Now that's always an option. Could there be a lonely little boy beneath the bravado mask?" She asked coyly. Her voice was close now, but getting closer. "A sexual problem, perhaps? No, that could be charmed away instantly, what with your-" She cut off, leaving Draco to guess at the end of the sentence. He heard her step closer, a breath of her body heat coming in contact with him. "No," Trysten began. The eerie quality of her voice brought goose bumps out over his arms. "It's family problems, isn't it?"

Draco inwardly shivered at how close she had come to the truth, but he merely opened his eyes, slowly, glared admirably, and rolled his eyes. "You haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," he told her, arms crossed. He ceased leaning on the wall and turned to face her, telling himself that his heart was pounding merely from the adrenaline of almost being found out. "What about you, pacing here like mad?" What're you thinking about?" He looked her over quickly. "Obviously not the latest hairstyles," he told her, attempting to drive her away. To his (hidden) dismay, she seemed to look slightly proud of that remark. "Boyfriend cheated on you?" he guessed. She shook her head. "Still going strong, then."

"No boyfriend," she said simply, looking at him as if he were crazy.

"Ah, one of those types. Your girlfriend cheated on you."

"No, not one of 'those types'," she mocked.

Draco smirked, merely to buy him time to think of the next question. "I'd ask about self-image, but it's quite clear you have none. You're smiling too bloody much to be depressed," Draco spat, irritated at the picture of her smiling that had been infiltrating his mind since the last Potions class. The sexual question seemed far too beneath him to bring up to a woman, so he skipped ahead. "Family problems, then. Your…father beat you and your mother never held you enough as a child." Draco's eyes twitched at the mention of the word 'father', but studied Trysten for her reaction.

Her eyes darkened noticeably. "You know nothing of my life," she told him, anger evident in her voice.

_So I hit a nerve,_ Draco smirked. "Ah, so your father drank and your mother beat you," Draco retorted. To Draco's surprise and interest, the fire in her eyes died as quickly as it came to life. Standing face to face in a tense silence, Draco's blood pounded in his ears. His mouth became dry and he focused solely on the girl before him. The bell rang and Trysten bent down to scoop up her schoolbag back onto her shoulder. She turned perpendicular to Draco, her arm brushing his chest in a path of searing heat. She looked to the door and saw the first students leave the class.

Her eyes flitted up to his for a moment, then zeroed in uselessly to his right wrist. "My mother is dead," she stated, the words weighted and sorrowful. An apology caught in Draco's throat as she wheeled around and disappeared into the crowd exiting Snape's room. A moment later, Draco's mind caught up with his mouth. _An apology? What in the bloody hell was I thinking?_ Shaking his head, Draco shoved his way through the stream of students, fighting his way into Severus' classroom.

**(XeVanne: Don't worry about it! I always glance over things as well. The mistakes are probably distraction….I seem to be a bit ADD, and there's constantly something else going on. Wow. Are you serious? That's quite a compliment, THANK YOU! I'm actually quite amazed someone would say that about my story... Unfortunately this is the last chapter I have pre-written, but I have a five day weekend this week, and then the rest of the week off for a conference, so I'll do my best to write more. Hope you enjoy this one as much as the last!)**


	8. Long Awaited Messenger

**(A/N: So sorry for the late update! But it's here now, and the next is half done! I was going to update on Thanksgiving, but the computer was down (just my luck). And thank you for all the compliments! I'm glad you're enjoying it. I just hope to be able to post more regularly—I'm taking 9 courses so this quarter will be tough.**

**XeVanne: you rock, as always. And I'll get you that character sometime…whistles innocently…**

**HD4Aubrey: Thanks for reviewing! Would you like a character as well? Oh! And tell your friend (that Harry reminds you of) that I love him too! **

**But I shall detain you no further. Enjoy!)**

Potions began in its normal somber state—a dark, musty classroom filled with angry silence after the professor insulted all non-Slytherin students. With a flight of his wand, Severus Snape collected the essays assigned the day before, much to the dismay of the students hoping to finish their last few sentences. Looking at the scrolls he had collected, Snape sneered. "I can't imagine these will be any better than the last." His eyes flicked menacingly towards a redhead seated unluckily in the first row. "Mr. Weasely. Why isn't your essay turned in?"

Even seated behind the boy, Draco could see the tips of his ears turn red. Granger sent a condescending glare her friend's way and Draco rolled his eyes. _Bloody know-it-all,_ he hissed mentally, saving the term 'mudblood' for when he had an audience. Weasely mumbled an incoherent sentence in response to his hated professor's question and said professor whirled around, turning his back to the class.

"Turn to page two hundred and fifty-seven," Snape hissed. "Do the potion listed individually while I grade your compositions. When finished, leave it in the cauldron. At the end of class I will return your essays and grade your potions, and then you will clean your work area. Begin."

As a close ally to Severus, Draco knew something was amiss. His elder's usual stern, cold demeanor had become…icy. His erect posture had a bit of a slouch. His snide remarks had been crueler and fewer than usual, indicating something heavy weighed upon his mind. _There's only one thing he could be this concerned about,_ Draco though glumly. Draco wondered if Severus had received the same news as he had, or if the Dark Lord had been up to something worse.

Setting up for the potion-making, Draco kept an eye on his professor to see if he could discern any more from his odd behavior. Being a natural at potions, very rare indeed, Draco planned to keep an eye on his mentor while brewing the 'simple' concoction. Fate, however, seemed to have something else in mind. At the ingredients cabinet, Draco had his hand poised to take a handful of aconite, only to find another hand had beaten him to it. Following the feminine hand up its milky arm, across the small shoulder, up the gentle curve of the neck, past the delicate jawbone, Draco found himself staring into the vibrant eyes of Trysten Moonjade.

His heart began to pound and his hand grew warm, tingling from—he assumed—the increased blood flow. His hand, a mind of its own, twitched downward towards the hand nearly as pale as his own. His heard did a back flip, and Draco yanked his hand back to his side, wondering slightly if it had been possessed. He watched as Trysten's hand retreated from the container and fell safely to her side, clutching the aconite. "Um…sorry…for…" she trailed off, gesturing uselessly with the offending hand.

"Yeah," Draco replied, although he was completely confused. Draco nervously stepped forward fractionally. His eyes flicked up to hers and he was instantly captivated by their alluring depths. After what felt to be several hours, Draco blinked, breaking the connection. Glancing uncharacteristically down at his feet, he noticed he and Trysten were standing much closer than he believed they had been. Subtly shaking his head clear, Draco turned toward the ingredients cabinet. "Well, we should get to work."

"Oh…yes, right," she mumbled. Out of the corner of his eye Draco saw her shake her head vigorously from side to side, as if coming out of a daze, though not nearly as subtly as Draco had. "Good luck," she told him, shifting her weight visibly from one leg to the other.

"You too," he murmured before he could catch himself. Before he could give himself a mental lecture on the essentiality of keeping up a certain image, however, Draco's heart began to dance in his chest as Trysten glided behind him, a wave of body heat overcoming his body. Reaching out for the aconite, Draco let out the breath he was unaware he had been holding, grabbed a handful of the poisonous plant, and shakily returned to his seat.

Throughout class, Draco kept one eye on Severus and the other on Trysten, watching for behavioral patterns in both subjects, as well as his own responses. Snape, he noticed, rubbed his temple more frequently than usual, had a snarl ever-present on his mouth, but his eyes were tired and saddened, akin to Dumbledore's. Trysten, who he ashamedly admitted to spending the most time watching, had less worrisome characteristics. She would glance at Severus rather frequently, but not with fear as her fellow students did. She cradled her left hand throughout the class, as it appeared to be aching consistently, and would press her lips together when she was thinking. She paid almost full attention to the concoction, with a worried grimace as she added each of the ingredients. She smiled to herself as she added the last of the scurvy-grass. Draco thought to himself as he became instilled with a light feeling while watching the girl.

When Severus announced the end of the allotted time given to brew the potion, Draco glanced at his concoction and fervently blessed his natural talent and, in this case, good luck when it came to potions. His eyes followed his Professor as he floated from station to station, although his ears couldn't pick out the words through the anxious rumble of the class. He began to laze in his observation, but snapped to attention as the professor drifted to the girl that had been occupying his thoughts as of late. He studied their faces, not being able to read lips, and was quite shocked when a mischievous glint sparked in Trysten's eyes, complimented by a Malfoy-worthy smirk. Curious as to his mentor's reaction, he looked up to see a half-hearted scowl. When Trysten looked down at the table, however, Draco saw a hint of a smile tug at Severus' lips.

Impressed, Draco although of what it could mean. _ A smile._ _He couldn't be genuinely happy, otherwise he wouldn't have scowled in the beginning._ Draco glanced up at Snape and saw him looking inconspicuously at Trysten, his eyes shining with _…Pride?_ Draco shook his head in disbelief, wondering if the apocalypse was drawing nigh. Before he had time to dwell, however, Draco heard a faint rustle of a cloak, signaling his professor's arrival. Looking up to his godfather, Draco smirked.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape stated coldly, although his voice held a bit of surprise. "You get a passing grade, of course, but…" Snape lowered his voice. "You've been outdone."

Draco stared at the Potions Master in shock. "By whom?" he cried incredulously. Snape raised one eyebrow and glanced quickly over his shoulder. Draco followed his gaze and found himself looking once again into the eyes of Trysten Moonjade. A very slight blush graced Draco's cheeks and he forced himself to look away.

"I assume your thoughts were elsewhere," Snape stated, smirking with implication.

"As a matter of face they were," Draco told him, seizing the opportunity, "although perhaps not where you're thinking." Draco stared seriously into Severus' eyes, and his godfather nodded.

"Very well." As he passed by, Snape murmured, "Make a disturbance, but not too serious."

Knowing what his professor was up to, Draco cleaned up his workstation and set off towards Potter and company. Realizing there wasn't much time left, Draco put on his trademark smirk. The group of three huddled over a piece of parchment, whispering. "Well, well, what have we here? Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood, sharing secrets are we?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," Potter spat maliciously.

"Testy, are we?" Draco taunted haughtily. He leaned an elbow on the table.

"I said leave," Potter growled, standing before Draco in a threatening manner.

"Aw, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you didn't like me, Potty," Draco teased. The smirk had barely returned to Draco's lips when Harry's body collided with his. The force of Draco's back hitting the ground quickly ended the surprised stupor he had been captive in. As Harry began to try to pummel Draco's face, Draco merely blocked, trying to roll Harry's weight off his body. Draco soon found the situation out of his control when Harry was forcibly lifted off him by a seething Professor Snape.

"Mr. Potter," the professor spat, looking the boy up and down with disgust. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for this obscene act of pointless aggression. Mr. Malfoy, you will stay after class. Class dismissed!"

Draco nodded his assent while Potter glared. As Draco walked away he heard Weasely while, "Fifty points? But Harry didn't do anything!"

Trysten rolled her eyes at the boys' antics, but couldn't believe her ears when she heard Ron exclaim that Harry hadn't done anything. _Ron and Hermione may not have done anything directly, but they didn't stop Harry either. And Harry…well, I wasn't expecting that. I was watching,_ Trysten blushed as her mind filled in 'Draco', _the situation, and Draco hadn't done a thing to deserve that. Alright, well I couldn't actually hear what was said, but I doubt Draco would or could say something as provocative as it would seem in the few seconds he was present._ Trysten gathered her book and parchment and swung her bag over her shoulder. She exited the classroom, clutching her supplies nervously to her chest as she took one last worried glance at Draco.

As soon as she possibly could, Trysten slipped out of the crowd and traversed the back hallways on her way to the kitchens. As she raised her hand to tickle the pear on the painting, the door swung open to reveal Rifka holding a parcel up for Trysten.

"Wha- … thank you, Rifka," Trysten stammered, surprised. She peered over Rifka's shoulders into the busy room behind her. "Do you need help again?"

"No," Rifka said firmly. "Dobby won't allow it."

"What?" Trysten asked, puzzled. "But before-"

"Miss Moonjade can't stay. Rifka must get back to work. Bye, Miss," Rifka rushed, closing the door softly in Trysten's face.

"Well, that was odd," Trysten stated. _If not a bit rude,_ she added mentally. "At least she gave me food…" Having naught else to do for the lunch period, Trysten decided to make good on her promise to Myrtle.

She arrived quickly to the flooded bathroom, and, stepping carefully amidst the rippling water, called out a tentative greeting. "Hello? Myrtle?" She waited a few moments, but, hearing no response, turned to leave.

"Yes?" Myrtle snapped, having been floating directly behind Trysten. Trysten started, having just noticed the ghost's presence.

"I had just come to visit," Trysten explained, hoping she hadn't said anything to set Myrtle off. Luck appeared to be on her side as Myrtle merely nodded and floated past. "So…How have you been this week, Myrtle?"

"Well, you wouldn't know now would you?" Myrtle whined, voice rising in pitch as she continued. "Because you never came! No one ever comes back!" she wailed.

Trysten covered her ears as Myrtle let out an exceptionally horrendous scream, dropping her parcel in the process. "But I'm here now, Myrtle," Trysten yelled, trying to be heard over the girl's cries. "And I can stay-" Trysten paused, realizing she was scheduled to aid Hagrid during lunch. "No longer," she edited. "I'm sorry Myrtle. I'll come back some time next week, and I hope you're feeling better by then." Trysten stooped to pick up her soaked parcel, trying to plug her ears at the same time, and rushed out of the bathroom.

_She was in a particularly foul mood today, _she thought sourly as she strode towards Hagrid's. As she neared her destination she slowed her pace, wondering with anxiety and excitement whether she would see the thestral again. _Or the man,_ she added to herself. "Hagrid?" she called, knocking on the door. Trysten nearly rolled her eyes when Hagrid failed to answer, but ceased her actions when the door swung open.

"Tryst'n, I was wond'rin' when ye'd get here. I 'ave a small job fer ye today. Out in back, I 'ave b'en wantin' to grow some Chinese Chomping Cabbage. All ye've gott'er do is loosen up that dirt there, an' I'll do th' rest."

"Alright, Hagrid," Trysten agreed, happy he had finally been there when she arrived. She set immediately to work, setting her parcel on the back steps. She did the work manually, not wanting to contaminate the soil with possibly magical residue. She had nearly finished the patch of earth when her hand began to trouble her slightly. She paused, straightening her back and wiping her brow with her uninjured hand. She looked up to admire the clear blue sky when she noticed something peculiar. A small black dot was flying through the sky towards her. It was gliding, she realized, recognizing outstretched wings. _Could it be?_ She wondered. Her query was answered when a hawk's cry pierced the air. "Horus!" She gasped in delight and rushed to the back door. Opening it she called, "Hagrid, I must leave for today, but it's almost done. Thanks! Bye!" She closed the door, picked up her parcel, and ran into the middle of the open space between Hagrid's and the castle. She let out a whistle, the melody that of a lullaby her mother used to sing to her. The hawk dove toward her, letting his wings stop his descent as he approached her. She brought her arm up to him, allowing him to perch upon her forearm. The hawk began nuzzling Trysten's arm as she stroked his feathers. Trysten thought back to her seventh birthday in Egypt, where her best friend and caretaker Djawara had given her this beautiful messenger, pet, and companion. He had landed directly on her arm, sending rivulets of blood down where his claws had pierced the skin. Immediately following that incident, Djawara had placed a spell upon her arm, protecting it from the bird's talons, though naught else.

She came to a sudden realization. "Dja sent you, didn't he?" Horus regally dipped his head in assent and extended his leg to her. Taking the message, Trysten opened her soggy parcel and offered the food inside to the hawk. She sat on a nearby boulder and opened the letter with trembling hands. She sighed, recognizing the flowing Arabic script as her friend's.

_Dearest Trysten,_

_I hope this letter finds you faring well. After all this time, I have finally deemed it safe to contact you._

Trysten's mind flickered to the last time she had contacted Djawara, a year before.

_Trysten had been sitting beneath the Parisian night sky, reading a text on transfiguration by candlelight, when her father came in suddenly from her right, his dark robes blending in with the night._

_"You, inside, now," he ordered, whipping past her into the house behind her. She followed meekly, wondering fearfully what he was going to 'discuss' with her. He was pacing impatiently when she finally made it into his study. "You've been speaking with that mudblood, haven't you?"_

_Trysten flinched at the profanity, but nodded, knowing he meant her friend Djawara. "Yes, sir, I have."_

_"Never again," he ordered. As he began to storm out of the room, Trysten's despair overruled her better sense._

_"But why?" she called out._

_He stilled and pivoted slowly on his heel, his countenance dark. "What?" he hissed._

_"W-why can't I talk to Dja?" she murmured, holding in a tremble._

_"He's a mudblood!" her father shouted. "And I forbid you to talk to him again! He has corrupted you! You take no pride in your pureblood heritage! He corrupted your mother, and now he's corrupting you!"_

_"Don't you dare talk about my mother!" Trysten warned him, her eyes flashing. Her father sent her a murderous look and she relented, knowing he had killed before. "Fine," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I'll write to Dja telling him I wish never to speak with him again."_

_Her father perfected his posture and his face became tranquil. "Good. I'm proud. You've made the right decision." Trysten resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the insinuation that she had a choice in the matter._

_"Thank you, sir," she stated, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She left the room in a hurry, breaking into tears the moment the door to her room was closed behind her. She worked her way around the numerous stacks of books and sat at her littered desk, pulling out parchment and ink. She continued to write Djawara telling him they could no longer write each other. She told him she feared for her life if they continued, and instructed him to keep Horus until they could safely communicate again. She sent it off with Horus, and not two weeks later her father left her in her grandfather's care in England. _

She turned her attention back to the letter.

_While I hope you agree communication is safe, I believe you'll find my reasoning to your interest. Browsing the market in Cairo a few days ago, I happened to glance upon a small group of men clad in black. I got closer and realized one of these men was your father._

Trysten's breath hitched in her throat, and Trysten read the next few passages with great care.

_I recall in your last letter you told me should you ever return to Egypt with your father, you would await me in your "study cove" by your old house. I had a feeling that's where you'd be staying, so I followed Aitor's group._

Trysten's eyes grew wide at her friend's actions, for although he had survived to write the letter, she knew what her father was capable of.

_Discreetly, of course. I honestly don't think he'd recognize me if he saw me. He never paid much attention to me anyway (we'll have to see how well you recognize me next we meet). It came as quite a surprise to me when I heard Aitor mention your absence, let alone mention you at all. He said you were left at your grandfather's house in London shortly after your last letter. (I hope Grandfather Sheltson treated you well. Considering he was on Shikara's side, I should think he did.) Then Aitor mentioned that you had been moved to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Trysten paused. _How did father know that? _She asked herself. _Grandfather Sheltson signed all the papers, and he's too lazy to bother writing his son-in-law… how did father know where I am? _Trysten shivered. _Father knows where I am. _Gulping, Trysten read on.

_Congratulations, Baraka, I'm sure you are glad to finally be at a school. I could barely get your nose out of your books on your birthday! In addition to mentioning your whereabouts, Aitor mentioned coming to 'visit'. Whatever he meant by that, he implied you wouldn't be staying at Hogwarts after he came._

Trysten paled, tears coming to her eyes at the thought of leaving her home to return to the arms of her father.

_With your father's associations we both know this is bad news. (He also mentioned that "Harry sodding Potter" is at Hogwarts. Is that true?)_

Trysten laughed. _Dja always knew how to lighten up the worst news._

_Trysten…I also came upon a piece of information you should know. Concerning your mother._

Trysten froze. _Does he know?_ She thought, a sense of hope shining through the terror she felt at him knowing.

_That day in the desert…you were six, I can't expect you to remember, but…What I'm trying to say is…Trysten, your mother wasn't killed in a sandstorm. She was killed by Death Eaters._

She sighed. _So now he knows that much…but he still doesn't know the half of it. _Trysten shook her head.

_I'm sorry, Trysten._

"Me too," she murmured aloud, a tear dripping onto the page before her.

_Because of this (and you, of course) I wish to come to Hogwarts as soon as I can get away. Oh, and it might be nice to check with the headmaster, although I'm coming either way._

Trysten laughed, wiping her tears.

_Get back to me as soon as you can; I can't wait to see you, Baraka. _

_Love, Djawara_

_P.S. Send an owl, not Horus. He deserves a rest—and he's yours to keep (again)!_

Trysten took a few deep breathes, reviewing the information given to her as best she could. After a moment, one section came back to her full force. _Father's coming to get me._ She stood and, gathering her belongings, sprinted toward the castle and the only one who could help her: Severus Snape.


	9. Enlightening Conversation

Draco waited for the class to empty, a worried glance from Trysten setting butterflies loose in his stomach. As the last student filtered out (assisted by a harsh glare from Snape), his teacher stepped towards him.

"What's this all about?" Severus asked.

"My father," Draco replied simply, knowing Snape would understand.

Severus bowed his head. "I was afraid so. Let us talk in the office." Severus held the door open for the teen, placing silencing charms on the door as he entered. Snape got comfortable, waiting for Draco to do the same before continuing. "What news have you received?"

Draco held up a letter, the Malfoy seal broken upon its front. "They know of mother's 'betrayal'," Draco summarized, the last word dripping with sarcasm. Draco watched as Snape put his head in his hands.

"I had thought that might be the case." Severus gestured for Draco to continue.

"They're planning to bring her to Voldemort on various occasions to change her mind." Draco ground his teeth in anger, knowing what these sessions would entail.

"Narcissa is the proudest woman I've met, perhaps excusing Lily Evans. She won't change her mind," Severus grimaced, rubbing his temples.

"I know," Draco agreed, keeping a waver out of his voice. "And if she refuses to accept the Dark Lord…they'll kill her."

Snape sighed. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm not sure there's anything we can do, but I'll try to think of something. Is that all?" Snape stood, preparing to leave.

"Unfortunately not," Draco groaned. Snape looked at him expectantly. "Father has scheduled my initiation." Severus looked at him a long moment, then, without a word, stood and rifled through his cabinet. A moment later he turned towards Draco, a bottle of firewhisky and two glasses in hand.

"I take it your views haven't changed?" Severus asked, pouring the liquid evenly between the two glasses. He handed one to Draco.

"Like I could ever follow that monster?" Draco snorted, clinking their glasses together before taking a deep drink. After a few moments of silence, Draco looked up to his mentor, all traces of bravado gone. "Severus, what are we going to do?"

Snape sighed and began to refill his empty glass. "I'm not sure, Draco. You're far too young to be a spy, nor could I put you in that much danger.

"But I cannot simply refuse, either," he pointed out.

"No, you can't." Snape looked to Draco and sighed. "Merlin, Draco, is there anything good in your life?" He finished off the glass, keeping an eye on his protégé. Draco, on the other hand, had set his glass down and was blushing very slightly, examining his hands quite closely. "There is?" Draco looked up to his elder, knowing the man would come to the right conclusion soon enough. After mere seconds under Severus' calculating gaze, the man sat back, smiling. "Ah, Miss Moonjade." Draco felt his cheeks warm at the mention of Trysten's name and cursed himself mentally. "What exactly is going on between you two, Draco?"

"Nothing," Draco answered calmly, knowing he wasn't lying…exactly.

"But you want to be," Snape suggested.

Draco felt his cheeks light once more. _Blast!_ "Perhaps," he responded more calmly than he felt. "And what would it matter to you, Professor Snape?" Draco asked, not unkindly.

"Well it does concern my favorite student," Draco smiled at the compliment, "and my godson." **(A/N: Yes, in this story, Draco is Snape's godson. I wanted to avoid it, but I couldn't find a better replacement for the line…)**

Draco's smile was replaced by a playful scowl when Draco registered the implications of the sentence's end. "Trysten is close to you, then?

"You might say that, I suppose," Snape replied thoughtfully. "Charming girl, wouldn't you say?" Draco refused to answer, although he looked like he would like very much to agree. "Not 'Moonjade', then?" Snape smirked, poking fun at his godson's habit of using surnames instead of first names. Draco winced, realizing he had let her first name slip out. "Are you close to Trysten?"

As Draco drew in a breath to respond a familiar voice drifted in from the classroom, accompanied by hurried footsteps. "Sev, I really need to talk to you. My father-" Trysten Moonjade entered the doorway, faltering when she saw Draco sitting with the professor. "I'm sorry- I didn't know you had company, but…by gods, I really do need to speak with you, Severus. When you and Draco are through, find me immediately. Even if it's during class."

Draco watched with interest as Snape came to attention at the last statement. _Apparently that's serious for her. Perhaps she's Ravenclaw._

Trysten's eyes alighted on the bottle of Firewhisky, then the glass in front of Draco. "Providing students with alcohol, Professor?" She asked sternly.

_Definitely Ravenclaw._

"Miss Moonjade, I hardly think it-"

"And not giving me some?" Trysten concluded, smirking.

_Or perhaps not._

When Severus made no move to get up, she reached over and poised the bottle to her lips. After looking to her professor for permission, she took a swig from the bottle. "Thank you. As I was saying, find me when-"

"Alright," Snape drawled, "who are you and what have you done with Trysten?"

The girl looked completely baffled. Looking over Severus suspiciously, she took another swig from the firewhisky. Halfway through her swallow, a look of epiphany graced her face. She looked from the bottle, to Severus, and back again. "Severus, could you honestly expect I wouldn't drink after news like- Oh. I suppose you couldn't, as you don't know the news." She paused for a moment, appearing to be in thought. She paled visibly and took a rather large gulp from the bottle before setting it down. "Do make sure I don't find that again, won't you, Professor?" Tapping her foot nervously, her eyes fell upon Draco. She stammered for a moment, blushing. "I'm sorry, Draco. I forgot my manners. I'll be going then."

As she made for the door, Severus rose to his feet. "Miss Moonjade," he called, "do you expect me to let you waltz in here, drink my liquor, and leave?"

The girl stopped and turned to face her professor, smirking. "Yes." Snape leveled her with a glare. "But if it means you'll help me, I suppose I could stay," she drawled playfully, putting her weight on one hip. Catching sight of Draco, she immediately straightened. "If it's alright with you, of course, Draco," she added timidly. Severus raised an eyebrow at her, and Trysten couldn't help but blush. She saw Draco nod thoughtfully and dug in her pocket, retrieving the letter she had received that morning. As she handed the folded parchment over to the professor, she murmured, "It's from Djawara." She saw his eyes widen fractionally but didn't comment on it. Sitting down in a nearby chair, she waited for Severus to finish.

She didn't have to wait long because a few moments after she sat down, Severus snapped, "Trysten, how in Merlin's name do you expect me to read this?"

Trysten looked at him, tilting her head slightly to the side in confusion. _What is he on about? Djawara's handwriting is very nice. It flows nicely and— _"Oh," she murmured, blushing as she realized her mistake. "It's in Arabic, isn't it?" Standing, she endured Snape's glare until she was at his side. Taking out her wand she said, "_Linguis Translatum_." She watched as the flowing script transformed into blocky English letters then went back to her seat, waiting for Snape to finish. After a moment of thought, she turned to Draco. "This is why you did that in Potions," she stated suddenly.

"What?" Draco studied her momentarily.

"You got in trouble during Potions so you could talk to Severus inconspicuously, right?"

Draco's gaze flicked to Severus before answering, "Yes, you're right."

The scene at the end of that morning's Potions class replayed in Trysten's mind. "I must say I didn't expect that strong of a reaction out of Harry. Are you alright?" She stood up and walked the few feet over to Draco. Kneeling beside his chair she examined his face. "You protected yourself pretty well," she commented. Coming across a purple-tinted area just above his left eyebrow she smiled sympathetically. "But you missed one." Giving him an apologetic look, she gently prodded the growing bruise, looking for its boundaries. After finding the extent of his bruising, she flashed a small smile and walked over to one of the cabinets. Taking out a small vile she walked back to Draco and knelt before him. Putting a small amount of the liquid on her fingers, she warned, "This may hurt a bit at first."

"But you missed one," the girl told him. Draco looked incredulously at her until she began to prod his forehead, a small tinge of pain becoming evident. He studied her as she worked meticulously. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, catching the glow of the candlelight in the small office. Her brows were furrowed as she diligently worked, adding a few years to her almost child-like appearance.

_Beautiful,_ Draco thought, too absorbed to scold himself properly for the sentimental thoughts he was having. Trysten's slightly parted lips suddenly burst into a smile before she stood, walking across the length of the office. She returned a moment later, a small vile of blue liquid in her hand. Draco vaguely recognized it as a healing ointment as she spread it onto her fingers.

"This may hurt a bit at first."

Draco nodded slightly, a bit nervous as he had never used this particular ointment before. He looked into her eyes as she brought her hand to his forehead. Finding nothing to distrust he waited for her hand to make contact. As her slippery fingers touched the bruise Draco seethed, finding the pain he had felt earlier had multiplied by ten. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to end. The icy liquid was being spread over the damaged flesh, Trysten's fingers delicately massaging it into his skin. Shortly after being applied, the ointment began to warm, leaving Draco to bask in the intoxicating feeling of Trysten's cool fingers caressing his warm skin. Blissfully ignorant of the small smile adorning his face, Draco was brought back to reality when Trysten withdrew her hand. Realizing the soreness in his forehead was gone, Draco brought his hand up to feel the tender skin. "Thank you, Trysten," he murmured, finally letting his hand drop. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over his fingertips, feeling the ointment residue.

"Here, let me get that," she offered, bringing a small towel up to his face. Dabbing ever so lightly at his forehead, Draco felt the air hit his newly dried skin. "Sorry I didn't warn you," she told him, taking his hand in her towel-clad ones. She rubbed the cloth over each of his fingers to rid them of the ointment, causing a warm friction that brought a blush to both their cheeks.

"If you two are quite finished," Snape drawled, "I would like to know, Trysten, why you aren't a bit more upset about this." Trysten opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted before she could get a sound out. "Before you explain, Miss Moonjade, perhaps you should realize you are about to divulge this information to a third party." Draco glared at his godfather, who merely looked expectantly at the girl.

"Oh," she murmured. "Um…" She turned to Draco, then back to Snape, then looked at the hands in her lap. _"How does Draco feel about the Dark Lord?"_ Trysten's voice asked in his mind, obviously directed toward Severus. He saw Snape's eyes flicker toward Draco, knowing he had heard Trysten's plea.

_'The Dark Lord'?_ Draco asked himself with despair, spitting out the title. _She doesn't support Voldemort, does she?_

Draco was pulled from his reverie by a disdainful snort of his Godfather's, which Draco supposed to be an answer to Trysten's question. The girl looked contemplative for a moment, then she pulled her eyes to meet Severus' gaze. _"It's alright. I trust him."_

Despite Snape's skeptical sneer, Draco's heart felt as though it were flying. _She trusts me?_

"He can stay," Trysten stated aloud, still ignorant of the fact that Draco was a legimens.

Snape nodded regally. "In that case, I ask you again: Why are you not more upset about this news?"

"Well, I suppose it really depends on what news you mean," Trysten murmured.

"Well, let us go through the letter, shall we? First, why has this…Djawara implied it was unsafe to communicate with you previously?" Snape asked, referencing the parchment before him.

"My father would be…angry," she told them, the last word coming out as a whisper. Draco furrowed his brows, wondering at the implications of the word.

"Why wouldn't your father let you speak with Djawara?"

"Dja was 'impure'," Trysten spat, her anger burning in her eyes. "A 'disgrace'. A 'mudblood'." Draco got a chill listening to the sweet girl before him using these terms, words directly linked back to his father.

"I see. Then I take it these 'men clad in black' were-"

"Death Eaters. My father among them." Draco was intrigued by this, wondering what else the two students had in common.

"How long has your father followed Voldemort?" Snape asked.

"I'm not sure…fourteen years? Since before my mother died."

An awkward silence followed her statement, which Severus ended by clearing his throat. "He then followed… Aitor?"

"My father," Trysten supplied.

"Your father and the others to your old house in Cairo, listening in on their conversation. Listening in on conversations of Death Eaters?"

Trysten shrugged and smiled slightly. "He's always been good at that sort of thing," she explained. Her eyes had a slightly far away look to them so Draco assumed she was referring to a memory.

"Aitor mentioned you had been left in London at your Grandfather's house." The grim look on Trysten's face made neither Draco nor Severus want to dwell on the subject, so the professor continued. "And he went on to say that you came here."

"Which is the start of the problem," Trysten pointed out.

"How so?" Draco asked, feeling a bit out of place.

"Father shouldn't know where I am—he hasn't had contact with me since he left me here. Grandfather Sheltson signed everything, Father was never notified of anything, yet now he knows where I unexpectedly turned up.

Severus appeared to be in thought but quickly snapped out of it when he saw the two teens looking at him expectantly. "He then calls you… 'Baraka'?"

Trysten smiled, her eyes sparkling. "It means 'blessing' in Arabic. He always told me I was a blessing to him, but I think it was the other way around."

"It says here that Aitor mentioned coming to visit," Snape grimaced, as though he were regretful to take her out of her happy mood.

"Yes. And that I won't be at Hogwarts once he does." Trysten shivered at the thought and before Draco knew what he was doing, he had removed his cloak and put it around her shoulders.

"Then we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen, now won't we?" Draco murmured, surprising himself with his compassion. At Trysten's slight smile and nod he returned to his seat.

"It then… mentions your mother."

Draco froze. A memory of Trysten's voice flitted through his head. _"My mother is dead."_

"I know," Trysten assured him softly.

"'Your mother wasn't killed in a sandstorm,'" he quoted, "'She was killed by Death Eaters.'"

"I know," she murmured.

Draco brought a hand up to massage his temple, finding the girl's story to parallel his own too closely.

"Trysten, if I may ask…why aren't you more upset about this?"

Trysten managed a weak smile. "I knew already."

"What?" Snape asked, taken off-guard.

"I was there when she was killed, I…I knew already," Trysten explained. Draco felt as though his heart was breaking when she managed to produce a pitiful smile through her newly shed tears.

"I…I see," Snape told her, though it was clear he didn't. "It mentions the author coming to Hogwarts."

"Yes," Trysten grinned. "Dja's coming."

**(A/N: Sorry for the incredibly long wait—I had halfway through this chapter written and had to find time to both create and type the remainder of it, along with sort out some finicky details. **

**First order of business, review responses! Yay! …..Maybe only I like them.**

**PerfectByNature: I'm sorry you don't like the way I have created Harry, but you're not really supposed to like him all that much in this fic, so I suppose your response can be either a good thing or a bad one. Thanks for reviewing, I hope you continue reading despite Harry.**

**XeVanne: Ah, my most lovely and faithful reviewer. I love you, you know that? Sorry about the long wait, I hope the wait is shorter next time.**

**Zanathir: Firstly, I must say I love your penname. Quite elegant. Trysten is fully human, as far as I am aware, and I suppose you could call her paranoid. I mostly based her character off of me earlier in life, so I don't believe I am able to accurately psychoanalyze her. Thank you muchly for the compliments, and I hope you continue reading!**

**Second off, I have a request: I seem to be straddling the fence for a few issues in my story, and, if possible, I would love some recommendations. **

**Numero Uno: The man in the Forbidden Forest. Good, Evil, a mixture of both? Human, not? Enemy, friend, love interest?**

**Two: Trysten's father. When should he "visit"? Soon, after a long while, prevented/never?**

**Three: Any requests on how fast Draco/Trysten develops, if at all?**

**Four: Should Djawara merely drop in, or should he be here to stay? Although this may be easier to answer once he is actually introduced. We can see if you hate him, love him, or merely tolerate him. **

**Thanks again, and I hope to update soon!)**


	10. Overheard Discussion

**(A/N: Sorry this is so late! I can't believe it's been almost five months since my last update! Time flies… More apologies later.)**

Draco left Severus' office more confused than he had been when he entered. Not only had his dilemma remained unsolved, but Trysten's life had become a mystery to him as well. The similarities between their lives had only served to mystify him even more, as well as make him wonder about the other intricacies of Trysten's life.

"Do you mind if I walk with you?" A voice asked, startling and nearly making Draco lose control of his emotional mask. Looking over to see Trysten, Draco let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"No, of course not," Draco murmured, the words out of his mouth before he could realize how kind they were. He cursed himself inwardly, but stopped when his words were rewarded with a brilliant smile from Trysten. She matched her pace to his, their steps echoing in the empty corridor. Draco glanced over at her, noticing her eyes were downcast slightly. He cleared his throat slightly, wanting to break the odd silence that had enveloped them. "You… have Divination this afternoon, correct?" Trysten had jumped at his words, as though she was unused to walking with company, but Draco pretended not to notice as she smiled at him gently.

"Yes, I do." She blushed, most likely remembering what had occurred at the last Divination session, as she unconsciously massaged her injured hand.

Draco's eyes flickered down to the movement and he frowned, ever so slightly. "Does it still bother you?" Trysten looked at him, eyes swimming with confusion. "Your hand," he specified.

"Oh," Trysten murmured, blushing. She glanced down at her hand, looking it over for a moment. "A bit. Not nearly so bad as before, but it still twinges a bit." Her gaze remained on the bandaging.

Meanwhile, Draco fought an inward battle. His instincts told him to say something comforting, but he found the thought very un-Malfoy-like. After a few moments of silence, he settled for a soft, "Mm." He inwardly cursed himself, but got over it quickly enough. The door to Divination loomed closely by, and Draco searched for something to say before they went through the door. He found the decision ripped from his hands, however, as Trysten stopped a few feet from the door and placed a hand on his upper arm to cease his movement as well. He stopped, his back to the door.

Trysten had been slightly disappointed by Draco's response to her answer, but didn't show it in the slightest. In fact, she scolded herself for feeling that way. As they walked, she sneaked glances at the blonde beside her, mind running over what had happened in Severus' office. _'He knows so much about me now…I wonder what he thinks of me now…'_ The door to Divination was but a few feet away when Trysten made an impulsive decision, reaching out and stopping Draco. She blushed slightly as her fingers made contact with his skin, a soft tingle erupting.

She gently cleared her throat and met his eyes for a split second, before looking downwards and speaking. "Draco, about what you heard in Sev's office today… I'm sorry you had to hear all that." She glanced up at him, only to find he was listening intently, face its usual blank state. "I interrupted your meeting with him, and I told you things you probably would've been better off not knowing." She sighed slightly, a self-depreciative smirk adorning her lips. "You know what they say, burden your friends and you'll soon have none left."

Draco tried not to let his surprise show when she referenced him as a friend. _'Are we friends?'_ He wondered. A small thought of _'Do I want it to be more?'_ slipped in before he could banish it properly. He looked at Trysten and realized she was expecting some sort of response. "It…It's fine, Trysten." He mentally kicked himself for using her first name, but made sure none of it showed. He recognized the insecurity in her eyes and smiled softly. "If your friends don't help you deal with your burdens, are they really your friends?" He smiled at her a moment longer before turning and walking into class, the smile effectively vanished from his face.

Trysten stood where Draco left her, his words ringing in her head with an unrealized truth. She took a step then stopped. _'Does that mean he considers me a friend?'_ She shook her head slightly, banishing the thought, and entered Divination, not noticing the pairs of green and grey eyes that followed her. She walked up to Firenze, smiling at him brightly.

"Are you up for the same thing again today?" Firenze asked gently.

"You know it," she responded happily.

"Alright," Firenze assented, smiling back at the girl. "It is all set up for you."

Harry Potter had just walked into Divination when two figures walking down the hallway caught his eye. He tucked into a corner just inside the classroom, observing them as they walked in silence. He was getting bored when they suddenly stopped. He leaned towards them, listening to the words they spoke. _'Friends? The girl and Malfoy are friends? Merlin, now I know she's Dark.'_ He ducked back inside as Malfoy walked by, but kept his narrowed eyes on the girl. He watched her as she entered the class and went to Firenze, but turned his eyes to Ron and Hermione while she discussed with the centaur. He walked over to them, sitting down surreptitiously. "Moonjade was walking with Malfoy. They seemed…. friendly," he told them, spitting out the word.

"Where is she?" Hermione asked, looking about the room.

"She's right-" Harry paused, looking at the now solitary Firenze. He scanned the room, getting frustrated. "Where did she go?"

**(A/N: I realize this is inexcusably short, especially after the agonizingly long wait I've put you through, but life has been beyond stressful lately, not to mention I hit a sort of wall in this story. I shall be doing my best to update soon—I know I said that last time, but I mean it!—and _hopefully_ I'll be starting another piece as well, for which inspiration hit me like a tidal wave. It'll be my version of the seventh Harry Potter book, though (hopefully) not nearly so long as the ones by JK. If you like my writing style, or simply need to read another story, I have also been writing two 'books' of my own creation (though I hardly have time to type them up any more—don't worry, there's much there already). They are at my website, along with this story. The website is: www. geocities .com/ marasheftu (without the spaces, o'course) **

**In summary, I AM continuing this story, but seem to run out of time consistently… Sorry for the lateness and length, again! I'll be trying to update weekly, or bi-weekly, and not setting a length minimum for myself. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope another will be up soon!)**


	11. Uneventful Divination

Trysten settled into her seat, thankful for the invisible barrier that was hiding her. She slumped in her chair, finally allowing the day to catch up with her. _Dja's coming,_ she remembered happily. Her sunny mood was soon dispelled by the next words spoken. _And so is Father._ She shivered despite herself, cursing that her father still had this effect on her. _ How in the bloody hell does that scoundrel know where I am? Grandfather Sheltson wouldn't tell him. Sure, he doesn't like me, but neither does he like Father!_ She realized she was getting worked up and took a deep breath. _Whatever he's planning, we must figure it out… I couldn't bear to live with that despicable, malicious, bad-mannered, arrogant, horrid— _Trysten took another breath, willing these thoughts from her mind. _Dja's coming, and he'll make it all better,_ she told herself with child-like certainty. Her eyes fell upon the table before her. _Until then, I've class work to do._

She reached a trembling hand out to the powder, taking a small handful. She wondered absently what kind of powder it was while she brought her hand back towards her body. Preparing to cast the powder, she paused. "Who shall I see for?" she wondered briefly. Her eyes flickered to the raven-haired boy sitting near the entrance. His jade eyes were focused on his two friends, not the task at hand. The Ravenclaw in her mentally scolded him, but the rest of her mind was occupied. _Should I see Harry's memories again? I doubt anything new will come up, but…Perhaps if I try to sort through them? Rush to the forefront? And it's not like I haven't seen them before…_

Trysten lazily wrote Harry's name with the soft gray powder, drawing a breath to whisper the incantation. She stopped, however, when a thought crossed her mind. _If there are any more…nightmarish qualities to these memories…Will I cry out again?_ She made a mental vow to keep quiet, whispering, "_Incendi lumo spectra." _ The powder before her swirled to life, bursting into a silent flame. Her injured hand twitched in reminder, but she ignored it and focused on the images forming before her.

_All was dark. Apprehension filled the air. There was a flash of green light, then a woman's scream, finally cut to nothing._

_She crouched on a white, tiled floor, scrubbing._

Concentrating, Trysten tried to skip the memories she had already seen, setting her mind on the man who fell, the most vivid image in her memory. She skidded past a dark room, the Hogwarts Express, and a snake. The words _'Kill the spare,'_ echoed in her mind as the memory settled.

_She stood in a dim room. She looked up to see Sirius laughing. She felt dread well in the pit of her stomach right before Sirius was hit by a spell, squarely in the chest. His look of surprise quickly turned to one of horror as he began to stumble backward through a cloth…_

_The scene flashed to a house full of copper haired youths. Trysten recognized Harry's good friend and a fifth year girl she had run into occasionally. There was a set of twins, who were talking in turn, which made Trysten's head spin, though Harry seemed to understand well enough…_

_She stood in a dungeon corridor, narrowed eyes on Draco Malfoy. Hate welled in her, and she—Harry—snapped what must have been a witty retort. They got into dueling position. A set of brown locks got in the way of her clear shot to Draco, but she fired anyway, completely unconcerned as to whether or not it would hit the girl. A few seconds later the girl crumpled and curses filled her—Harry's—mind. The bushy haired girl beside her tugged at Trysten's sleeve, and they headed off. Her head turned back toward whence they came, and Trysten's eyes alighted on—_

Trysten was thrust back into reality with a gasp. _That was me,_ she realized with a shudder. _I **never** want to see that again,_ she decided. Trying to calm herself, she looked around the room. Her eyes settled on Draco and hate began to course through her veins. She glared for a few moments before she realized what she was doing. She shook her head, quite vigorously, and looked back to Draco. She felt guilty, but none of the previous dislike had carried over. She grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag, writing quickly, but legibly.

'_Subject: Harry Potter_

_No problems conjuring flame, perfect clarity in memories. First memories viewed, then skipped ahead to a selected memory, a few smudges of memory between. I kept losing the separation between the subject and myself while in the memories. After completion, the subject's will, feelings, attitude remained within me, seeming as though nothing was amiss. Shall proceed with caution. (?)'_

She finished the reflection, putting it aside so she could give it to Firenze at a later time. Casting a quick _tempus_, she realized she still had a bit of time left before the class period (double today) would end. Scouring the room with her eyes, they settled, once again, on Draco Malfoy. Her heart felt a bit light as she watched him, though a bit of the guilt from before still held fast. She remembered the reason she had been looking around in the first place and lightly bit her lower lip. _Should I? _She wondered. _Would he mind? I know I would…But I didn't care about Harry's wishes, did I? Why should I care about Draco's?_ She rolled her eyes at her own ignorance. _Because you respect him. Because you… care._ She shifted in her seat, taking a bit of the powder in her hands once more. _He wouldn't mind, would he?_ She wrote out his first name, admiring the script for a moment, before she realized what she was doing. _Of course he would mind, you twit! _She dragged a fast hand across the letters, smearing them so they were just barely legible.

As she was about to take another swipe at it, she heard a soft tapping at the window several feet behind her. She ignored it, having never gotten mail, but heard it again, more insistent this time. She turned toward the window, pausing in shock when she saw her hawk, and dear friend, Horus. Her eyes flickered to the class, who hadn't seemed to notice yet. She put a finger up to her lips, her focus again on the hawk, and silently got up from her chair. She tiptoed over to the window, quickening her pace as she saw the hawk become impatient. She worked the latch quietly, swinging the window open without disturbing the concentrating students. She allowed the hawk to hop upon her arm, not wanting the noise of his wings to disturb the others. She crept back to her work station, and thus her invisibility, sitting down without moving her eyes from her dear friend. She passed a finger over his head, smiling when he leaned into the touch.

"What is it, Horus? Why did you find me?" The hawk stared at her a moment, as if she should know the reason. She waited a moment before raising her eyebrows in question. The bird seemed to roll his eyes before leaning toward her chest, his sharp beak tugging at something in her robes. She looked down to find Djawara's letter had been pulled from its hiding place. "What about Dja?" she whispered, not wanting the other students to overhear. The hawk simply looked at Trysten, before flapping over to peck at the quill she had lain on the table. Finding nowhere else suitable to land, the bird returned to Trysten's arm, ignoring the girl's cringe and hushes.

"I need to write him," she realized, feeling abnormally stupid. She lifted the other arm, gesturing toward it with her head. "I need that arm to write," she informed Horus, smirking when the hawk hopped haughtily to Trysten's other arm. She grabbed what she needed and held her quill, poised and ready, above the parchment. _In Arabic,_ she reminded herself, feeling horrible that she had trouble remembering how to write it.

'_Masa elkhir!'_ she began. _'Dja, I can hardly believe I have heard from you again! I had nearly lost hope! Not in you, just in the prayers that word would come soon. How are you, brother of my heart?'_ The words came easier now, a fact Trysten was quite glad for. _'Your news worries me, but there is time to fret later. For now we must rejoice! You are very welcome here, Djawara (I have not yet spoken to the Headmaster, but I am sure he will agree). I hope you come very, very soon, as I cannot wait to see you once more. I cannot believe you would have changed so much that I could not recognize you. Your spirit is still the same, I pray, even if your looks have come to resemble that awful whale-woman from the markets. I must send this off right away, so I can see you even sooner. Feel free to write back, Dja! I await your arrival in happy anxiety! _

_Masalam, _

_Trysten_

_P.S. Yes, 'Harry-sodding-Potter' is here. But don't get your hopes up. He isn't as kind as one would think.'_

Trysten folded the letter and tucked it in a pocket, making a note to go to the Owlery after class. She gazed into the eyes of her feathered friend. "And I need to find something to feed you as well… No eating the animals in the castle, alright? Almost all of them are someone's pet," she explained, finding a sense of peace deep within herself as she stared into the amber eyes of the hawk.

**(A/N: Okay, I'm a horrible person, I admit it. After missing five months and promising to try for weekly, I update in a month? Bloody hell, that's inaccurate. HOPEFULLY the summer will agree with me and let me write a chapter a week, if not more so. But that might not start until after the seventeenth of June, as I've a show that weekend and a sizable amount of work to do before then. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and PLEASE! Review! It encourages me to write, as I know someone's reading it! I didn't get any for the last chapter—how sad is that? It's probably due to my erratic posting, but still… please? I'll…. do a trick or something… puppy dog eyes)**


	12. Hiatus

**(A/N: Er… alright. So here's the thing—I know I haven't been updating NEARLY as much as promised, and I apologize to whoever may realize that, but that's not really the purpose of this. For the past two chapters, I have received zero reviews. That's right, nary a one. So, the logical side of me says, "Why continue to write if no one is reading?" And while my philosophical side disagrees that attention should put value on anything, the more logical, brain-tired side agrees. I may continue to write when the mood strikes me, but it won't be posted here.**

**Should you wish to see the continuation of this, there's simply one thing you should do: Review. I don't need a mind-blowing one, nor a vast number. One will do. Even one reader is worth writing to. So, simple as that. If you'd like me to continue, let me know. Otherwise, farewell, and blessed be.)**


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